King's Mother
by Morning-Tide
Summary: What if Queen Tuya was still alive when Moses returns to Egypt? Moses is now married to Tzipporah, and they have one son, Gershom. Now twelve years after Moses's exile from Egypt, they return to confront Pharaoh, only to find Queen Tuya is still alive. How will this change the course of Moses' confrontation with Pharaoh Rameses? IN PROGRESS.
1. Chapter 1

_AUTHOR'S NOTE: When a Pharaoh died, it was said that "the Falcon has Flown to Heaven". Biological sons of the pharaoh were known as "Sons of His Body", and the Pharaoh's mother was "The King's Mother". The king's wife was called his Great Royal Wife, rather than his queen as such. However, I stick with "queen" to keep things a little more simple.  
_

**_Disclaimer:_**_Oh! To own Prince of Egypt! Alas, I own it not, for it is Dreamworks who doth own it._

* * *

**Chapter One**

It was a long journey through the drench of heat. Clouds of sand puffed up with the camel's every step. The hot air rippled through Moses' robes as he, Tzipporah, and their son rode the camel to Egypt. Images of downtrodden slaves flashed in Moses' mind like shimmering mirages, disappearing like ghosts as one drew near. Neither Tzipporah or Moses spoke much of what was before them. Moses knew that God had assigned him a task not for the faint of heart: confront Pharaoh and free God's people. The Hebrews had waited long enough—now it was time to be set free after hundreds of years in slavery.

And suddenly, there it was, a giant, colossal city grander than Moses had ever known it to be: Egypt. He had left behind impressive temples and enormous monuments when he exiled the land, but Pharaoh Seti had transformed Egypt beyond recognition. Massive statues dwarfed mud brick houses, temples stretched toward the sky, and the very breadth of the borders had stretched far beyond what Moses ever had remembered. It seemed to Moses that Egypt had swollen three times bigger than when he had escaped but ten years ago.

Moses' four-year-old son, Gershom, riding in between his parents, pointed a finger over Moses' shoulder.

"Is that it?" he yelled, "is that Egypt?"

Moses straightened his back, shoulders squared. "Yes," he confirmed, "yes it is."

"Where the bad people live?" Gershom made swishing motions with an arm, pretending to wield a sword. "I'll fight bad people!"

Moses gently grabbed Gershom's arm.

"Violence is not the answer, Gershom," he chided firmly, "leave the talking to me."

"But father…"

"Pharaoh Seti can order your death with one word. You cannot fight the power of his words."

"God will! He'll help us!"

"Gershom…" Tzipporah warned, "you heard your father. It is he, not you, who will confront Pharaoh."

Gershom fell quiet as the camel trotted down the limestone gateway and into Egypt. Moses' heart quickened as he passed the looming statues of Pharaoh with their stern, grim expressions. Gershom grabbed the back of Moses' robes, hiding his face from the statues' domineering presence.

"The statues are built to make you afraid, Gershom," Moses mentored, "you need not fear them. They're made of stone and do not have beating hearts."

Gershom gripped Moses's robes tighter, gasping as the camel passed the walls painted with rows of bound captives and slaves.

"Mean Egypt!" Gershom yelled, "mean Pharaoh! I hate—"

His words were suddenly muffled; Tzipporah had clapped a hand over his mouth.

"Sh!" she warned sharply, "hold your tongue, lest someone hears."

Gershom tried to protest, words incomprehensible.

"You must hold your tongue when Moses speaks to Pharaoh."

The camel padded past the terrible paintings etched to honour some "glory" Moses could not see. Where was the glory in capturing slaves? Once he had proclaimed Egypt possessed a proud history splashed over her walls. Now he knew better. Moses was ashamed he ever saw honour in being a part of that history. Nevertheless, Egypt was once his home. He had lived eighteen years there, and how could he toss those years aside? He'd loved his adopted family, up until he'd discovered his "father", Pharaoh Seti, had killed all the Hebrew new-borns and drew that event on a wall like it was a jubilee festival.

Moses stopped his wandering thoughts as soon as the steps leading to the palace appeared in view. He tugged the reins, commanding the camel to stop.

"Let's go," Moses said, preparing himself for the confrontation.

* * *

The entrance hall reverberated with energy and music. Acrobatic ribbon dancers entertained the pharaoh, and servants milled around, offering wine and morsels. Moses was suddenly aware of being hungry, for he had little food on his trek into Egypt. But this was neither the time or place to stop for food.

Suspicious eyes bore into the three strangers, the chatter turned into whispers, and far away on his throne, Pharaoh lounged. Moses' brow furrowed in befuddlement—there was something different about this king.

_It can't be Seti, _he thought, _a child sits near his throne, and Seti would never slouch like that. Could it really be…_

Suddenly, the pharaoh was all movement as he sat up straight, holding up a hand. All music stopped at once, leaving the beautiful dancers stranded in mid-step. All eyes now locked onto Pharaoh.

_His face…that's not Seti…_

"Rameses." Moses breathed in a mix of shock and surprise.

_Will I have to confront Rameses? _

The pharaoh—Rameses—stood up, walking with assurance down the steps. The woman—her face achingly familiar—brought a hand to her mouth, eyes wide. She looked about ready to follow Pharaoh down the steps too.

"Moses?" Rameses asked, hope and joy in his face and voice, "Is…is it really…?"

Moses couldn't think of anything to say—Rameses was Pharaoh! His brother now ruled Egypt. Moses wanted to say something, anything—even congratulate him—but right then, Rameses grabbed him in a rib-crunching embrace, literally lifting the shepherd's feet off the floor. Moses' arms were pinned to his sides.

"MOSES!" Rameses shouted in pure joy.

Astonished gasps rose from the multitude.

"Rameses!" Moses gasped, a grin forming despite having the breath knocked out of him.

"Where have you been?!" Rameses asked as he let Moses go, "We took you for dead!"

Moses stepped back, still stunned—his brother was now _pharaoh. _

"Look at you!" Moses exclaimed, "Pharaoh!"

Rameses laughed, "Look at you—what are you dressed as?"

_It won't be so hard, _Moses thought, _if Rameses is pharaoh, surely he will listen. _

Moses laughed along with Rameses, giving him a hug. "It's so good to see you again!"

"Moses."

Moses pulled out of Rameses' embrace as Tuya's voice interrupted the reunion. His heart hammered as he saw her aching joyfulness sparkling in the tears running over her cheeks. Gliding past Rameses, she pulled Moses into a tight embrace.

"I thought you lost," she told him, stepping back to look into Moses' eyes, "we all did—and you have returned alive all this time."

A cough from a few feet away drew their attention. One of Seti's old priests stepped up, addressing Rameses.

"Your Majesty," he addressed, "we must remind you that this man did a serious crime against the gods."

Tuya held up a hand in their direction.

"We know," she told them.

The priest opened his mouth to interrupt, when a child's voice rang out.

"Father!" Gershom called out, "What's going on?"

Moses felt small hands tug at his robes at the same time he heard Tzipporah commanding her son to stay back. He looked down at Gershom and waved a hand at him, gesturing for him to return to Tzipporah. It was too late, for both King's Mother and Pharaoh had seen him. Rameses raised an eyebrow at Moses.

"This your child?" he asked. "How did you find a woman so far in the desert?"

Moses turned his head, looking back at Tzipporah, who was eyeing the reunion with unhidden suspicion. Rameses followed his gaze, as did Queen Tuya.

"You're quite the snake charmer, Moses," Rameses quipped, "you married the desert cobra."

"Your Majesty," Tuya warned, "do not speak that way of Moses' wife."

Gershom interrupted, "Are you the pharaoh then? The mean one?"

A soft gasp from Tzipporah behind them. Moses shook his head sharply at Gershom.

"Do not speak that way to Rameses," he chided, "he is pharaoh."

"But father—"

"No more," Moses interrupted.

Rameses' eyebrow arched higher; just a few feet away, his own son glared at Gershom.

"Oh no, do go on," Rameses commented, "Do tell Pharaoh why you think he is mean."

Moses looked down at Gershom, who folded his arms, narrowing his eyes at the king. But, to Moses' relief, he didn't say any more. Meanwhile, the priests looked ready to erupt with hidden indignity.

"Your Majesty!" Huy practically spat, "this man has committed a crime! A _murder_!"

Rameses hissed between his teeth, annoyed.

"We are loath to bring it up," the other priest continued.

"Be still!" Rameses snapped, "I am the Morning and the Evening Star."

_I am the Morning and the Evening Star. _

It hadn't sunk in before for Moses, but now those words hit him like a sledgehammer. Seti's falcon had flown to heaven—he wasn't the pharaoh he thought he would confront. It would be Rameses.

The same man he had once called brother.

"I pardon forever all his past crimes," Rameses declared now to the crowded hall's astonishment, even as he placed his large hands firmly on Moses' shoulders, "he is still our brother, Moses, the Prince of Egypt!"

_The Prince of Egypt…_

Moses lowered his eyes, avoiding his adoptive mother's and brother's jubilant expressions.

_It would have been easier were it just you, Rameses. Having to tell you why I'm here is one thing, but with your mother standing near…it is harder. _

Moses took a deep breath as he looked back up at Rameses.

"Rameses, mother," he addressed both, "in my heart, you are still my family, but things cannot be as they were."

Rameses's rapt expression didn't change. "I see no reason why not!"

"Why?" Tuya asked in her soft voice, consternation crossing her face.

Another deep breath. "You know I am a Hebrew."

The crowd in the hall gasped and whispered at this revelation. Gershom tugged at his father's robes, but Moses never looked down at him. Tuya didn't speak, but nodded, her face more worried than before.

"And the god of the Hebrews came to me."

"_What?_" Rameses asked.

Tuya stepped forward, "What are you talking about? What god of the Hebrews?"

Moses steeled his resolve.

_God wants you to do this, he wants you to free His people, at whatever the cost. _

"The god of my people, mother," he explained, "he had appeared to me."

But Tuya looked just as confused as Rameses.

"Appeared to you?" Tuya echoed, "I do not understand."

Moses gripped his staff, his fingers seeking courage from it.

_His command must be heard. _

Moses locked eye contact with Rameses. "He commands that you let his people go."

"His people?" Tuya repeated, "Who are his people?"

"My people are His people—the Hebrews are His chosen."

Rameses withdrew his hands from Moses' shoulders, a brief expression of disappointment crossing his face. But then his characteristic smirk returned. He spread his hands as though to challenge this unknown god and his order.

"_Commands_?"

"That's right, pharaoh!" Gershom blurted out, "He commands and you'll do—"

Gershom didn't say anymore, as Moses clasped a hand over his mouth. The boy tried to speak against Moses' palm, but it was all garbled.

"Hush, Gershom," Moses reprimanded, turning his attention back to the king, "behold, the power of God."

Bringing his stick forward, Moses let go of it. Instead of falling down, it stood straight like a soldier, shuddering as it transformed from a wooden staff into the thick coils of a hissing, angry cobra, its hood fully unfurled. Gershom let out a little squeak of fright.

"It shall not harm you, Gershom," Moses soothed.

Tuya looked as sceptical as Rameses himself. "A snake charmer can do the same," she said.

"But that snake charmer has never turned a wooden staff into a snake," Moses pointed out. "It is a sign of God's command and strength."

Rameses laughed, as though the whole thing was just a big joke.

"Very well, Moses," he said, "I'll play along! Hotep, Huy! Show this snake charmer our answer!"

The King, King's Mother, and the king's Son of his Body retreated to their places at the throne. Rameses' Great Royal Wife still hid in the shadows of the throne, silent and passive, but still alert to the goings-on of the hall.

Moses shielded his son as the priests came forward, malice in each step, and placed their staffs before Moses' cobra. They ignored its hissing and its hood extending even larger as the two men stepped near. It snapped at their robes, as if to warn them it was still venomous, even despite having been a non-venomous staff seconds ago.

Huy leaned forward, his nose an inch from Moses's. "You're playing with the big boys now," he whispered, trying and failing to sound threatening.

Moses frowned, glaring back into their eyes. But they turned their backs, gesturing for the show to begin. The light around them shifted and formed new shadows as slaves prepared the show for the Egyptians' benefit. The priests nudged Moses with their hands, pressing him into the centre of the room. Moses gripped Gershom's hand, not letting go. He would protect his son no matter what.

"Come on, come on," Hotep muttered, "hurry up, slaves! Let us get this show going before we all die of old age!"

_Slaves, _Moses thought bitterly, _that's all they see the Hebrews as. _

"Father?" Gershom tugged at Moses's robes, reaching his arms up to him. Without another word, Moses lifted his son into his arms, holding him firmly.

"I'll keep you safe," Moses whispered as Gershom leaned his head on his shoulder. "You'll see."

Gershom clung to Moses's neck as the priests chanted the names of the gods, the smoke and incense filling the room with a sickening intensity, saccharine to the nostrils and nauseating to appetite. He clutched his son tighter to his chest as the priests got too close to him.

_Keep your hands off my son. _

Moses flinched as one of the priests brushed into his personal space with a closeness reserved for lovers and very close friends. He itched for this show to be over—he wouldn't be surprised if Hotep and Huy were deliberately dragging it out just to torture him and entertain the Egyptians.

_Will they take all night with this nonsense? _

After what felt an eternity, the show ended.

_They don't notice that their two staffs had been swallowed by mine, _Moses thought, _they are too full of themselves to realise God had just shown he dominates _their _gods. _

Moses resisted rolling his eyes as the priests took deep bows to the cheering and applause of the Egyptians. Tzipporah looked like she'd swallowed something that had gone off, her face twisting in disgust at the priests' antics.

_Their gods remain silent and unseen. _

Just then, Rameses marched up to Moses, hands planted on his hips, the same sceptical expression in his eyes. Without a word, he tilted his head in the direction of the doors to a quieter, private throne room. Moses remembered that room—the same place where Seti would reprimand them after the boys had been caught in some misdeed.

_He will listen, _Moses soothed himself as he followed Rameses, _he must. He is my brother after all._


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter Two**

The heavy doors clanged shut behind Moses as Rameses strode ahead of him. Moses allowed his eyes to take in the familiar room, the place of many reprimands in their youth. The last time they had been in here, the two brothers had recklessly raced chariots through the nearby village and into a half-finished temple. The rage of Seti still echoed in the dwarfing columns and cracks in the alabaster wall. He had been so furious the day the two princes had switched the heads of the statues residing in the sacred Temple of Ra, that it seemed to Moses it still echoed around the room.

Rameses chuckled now as he took off his headdress. "I know you, Moses. What's this really about?"

Moses gripped his staff in both hands, closing his eyes to steady his thoughts.

_You have to tell him, _Moses told himself, _he must see that slavery is not right. _

Staff steady and upright in one hand, Moses strolled to the edge of the room that opened out onto a view of a gleaming Egypt, almost too bright to behold. The white walls of temples, palaces, and towering statues held secrets blacker than kohl around a heartless eye. The faraway cries of slaves whipped by overseers pinched Moses's ears, his soul flinching at the miserable sound. The slaves were mere ants next to the gargantuan architecture.

_They are treated worse than ants, _Moses thought with a shudder_. _

Moses gestured out at the vulnerable, all-too-human slaves pulling limestone blocks far too heavy for even a hundred men to move with ease.

"Look at this," Moses said, hearing, rather than seeing, Rameses walking to his side. "What do you see, Rameses?"

Moses turned his head, eyes latched on Rameses's reaction. Rameses's eyes glanced in the slaves' general direction, before he lifted their gaze skywards, above the slaves. He puffed up his chest as though to show just how important he was as pharaoh.

"A greater Egypt than that of my father."

Too stunned at his words, Moses found himself unable to speak for several moments.

_He sees only his empire, and not the slaves. What has my brother become? _

Gripping his staff to stop it trembling in this speechless space of time, Moses stared down at the straining Hebrews.

"That's not what I see," he proclaimed, shocked at Rameses's indifference.

Moses's hand twitched on his staff—the smallest of flinches—as Rameses laughed. Walking to his throne, the king slapped his crown on top of one of the lion heads on an armrest.

"Moses, I cannot change what you see!"

_He's the king, _Moses thought, still not quite believing Rameses's nonchalant attitude toward the slaves, _He is the morning and the evening star. He can call day night and it would be written._

"I must maintain the ancient traditions," Rameses continued, touching a slender hand on the crown, "I bear the weight of my father's crown."

_His father who slaughtered my people. _

"Do you still not understand what Seti _was_?" Moses demanded.

Rameses straightened up in his chair, his spine as stiff as a column. He tilted his chin, so he looked down his nose at Moses. His eyes locked so intently at Moses that the younger brother knew it wasn't all sincere.

"He was a great leader." Rameses proclaimed, but his eyes shifted focus a little away from Moses.

_He does not believe what he says. _

"His hands bore the blood of _thousands _of _children!_" Moses argued, yearning, wanting so much to get through to Rameses—the Rameses he knew before running away from Egypt. That Rameses would listen to him.

Rameses sneered, "Slaves!"

"My people!" Moses's words rang out, hand gripping his staff in his indignation.

_My people are no more than property to him…just as they were to Seti. _

"I can no longer hide in the desert, while they _suffer_," Moses lowered his eyes, avoiding looking at Rameses, "at your hands."

Dead silence, except for the distant groans and cries of slaves.

"So…" Rameses breathed, his voice soft with disappointment, "you have returned…only to free them."

_Why couldn't it be Seti I confronted? _

Moses wanted to look at Rameses, gauge his reaction, but instead his eyes shifted to the ring on his finger. Avoiding looking at his brother, Moses removed the ring from his finger, and dropped it on the crownless armrest.

_I have to tell him the truth for my people's own good._

Sincerely regretful, Moses uttered, "I'm sorry."

_He has to understand. He will, somehow. _

His heart ached as he watched Rameses's expressions change, like the successive phases of the moon, from puzzlement, to surprise, and then such terrible grief.

"Yes…I had hoped…"

_I did not return to the palace for the old times. Believe me, I do not enjoy doing this to you. _

Moses stood stock still as Rameses brought his hand holding the ring to himself, closing his eyes as though refusing to allow the shepherd to see his hurt. Yet, the lines around his mouth deepened, and an extra line appeared between his eyebrows. Moses wanted to look away, but he couldn't. Staring at his hurting brother, Moses had a flashback to the last time that extra line of sorrow had appeared between Rameses's eyebrows—it had been when Moses ran away from Egypt for good.

_Goodbye, brother._

Then—Rameses's eyes snapped open, revealing fury burning behind near-black irises. With one movement, he dumped the ring back on the armrest, snatched his crown, and placed it on his head. Now he was the image of a ruthless king once again, just as his father was.

"I do not know this god," Rameses declared in hard, ruthless tones, "and neither will I let your people go!" Rameses added as he marched past Moses, smacking the younger in the chest with his elbow as he strode past.

Moses pleaded one more time, wanting to get through to the man he once knew twelve years before.

"Rameses, you _must _listen—"

Rameses whirled around, jabbing a finger at Moses. "_I will not be the weak link!"_ he yelled, glaring at Moses, before marching toward the doors.

The words brought back a long-forgotten memory—the day Seti had accused Rameses of being the weak link in the chain. Moses had believed Rameses wouldn't take it too seriously—Seti did tend to be a lot harsher on his older brother. With just those words echoing in his head, alternating between Seti's and Rameses's voices, all Moses could feel was pity for his sibling. Seti's accusation had worked _too_ well. Now it seemed to have consumed Rameses beyond measure.

_I can still reach him somehow…_ some naïve part of Moses whispered, and he sorely wanted to believe it.

"Tell your people as of today, their workload has been doubled!" Rameses proclaimed as he began shutting the doors. "Thanks to your god!"

Moses stared, speechless, as Rameses uttered his declaration, his voice harsh and unrelenting.

"Or is it thanks to _you._"

The doors clanged shut, leaving Moses alone.

And still the words jangled in his head, the terrible accusation that had consumed Rameses he once knew like a crocodile did to its prey.

_I will not be the weak link! _

* * *

Rameses stormed into the main throne room, stomping up the steps, not caring if it destroyed his image of a dignified pharaoh.

_My brother has turned against me! _Rameses raged, _he has not returned to the palace, but to free some lowly slaves! They deserve their doubled workload! He can slave with them for all I care! _

The dancers were far too cheerful, gallivanting about in their flared white skirts and bejewelled bosoms. He barely saw his wife, Nefertari, standing next to his throne, with their son at her feet. Tuya stood on the other side of the throne.

"Be still!" Rameses commanded the hall.

All fell quiet.

"Dancers! Leave!" Rameses ordered, "Musicians, come back tomorrow!"

"What?" Nefertari asked, "They have only barely—"

Rameses shot a glare at her, and the queen fell silent, bowing her head.

"Behold this proclamation today!" Rameses addressed the hall, "For My Majesty has doubled the slaves' workload from now!"

His mother tried to place a placating hand on his arm, but he jerked away.

"It is because of this Hebrew that this edict is to be implicated on the slaves!"

Now Queen Nefertari spoke up, "Surely you do not speak of the Hebrew you greeted so well?"

Rameses turned his head, addressing her, "The very same."

"Rameses, what has happened?" Tuya now spoke up.

"I will tell you later." Rameses snapped, slouching back on his throne, trying not to think about Moses.

_I thought him dead twelve years, and he doesn't care. _

He vaguely remembered the scarab ring in the private throne room, but now he didn't care. Moses had made his motives too well-spoken.

_I will punish you and the Hebrews for your treachery, _Rameses railed as he watched the doors open, revealing Moses, who quickly joined Tzipporah and Gershom. _I will hurt you as you have hurt me. How dare you treat your own brother this way._

He turned his eyes away from the happy little family as they exited.

_Go back to your precious slaves, _Rameses taunted them, _go back and join them for all I care. I'm sure they'll have a warm welcome for you once they know it was you who caused the doubling of their workload. _

The entertainers filed out of the hall, leaving only a few lingering servants and courtiers.

"What happened, Rameses?" Tuya asked.

Rameses stiffened his back. "Nothing," he answered without emotion.

"Then why have you doubled the slaves' workload?"

He lay his hands palms down on the armrests. "The Hebrew you called your son has turned on us."

Nefertari gasped, and Tuya just looked concerned and confused.

"What are you talking about?" Tuya asked.

His hands clenched and unclenched. "He cared more about the slaves than the family who took him in. He didn't care about us at all."

"What did he say?"

Rameses slammed a fist on the armrest. "That he only came to free the Hebrews! Now do not ask me anymore of it!"

Tuya's face grew alarmed. "Surely you misunderstood—"

"I did not misunderstand anything!" Rameses interrupted, "He wished me to—"

_To be the weak link. _

"—to defy tradition and the upholding of _Ma'at_." Rameses finished, "Now leave me alone and get out. All of you!"

Nefertari reached for his hand, but he jerked it away, too furious for consolation. He waited as Nefertari, his son, and his mother all turned and walked away to leave him in peace.

_You will see what it is to defy Pharaoh, Moses, _Rameses thought, _You will regret what you have done. You will be punished for your betrayal and desire to upset Ma'at and open the doors to the Serpent of Chaos. _

And yet…deep down, he knew that everything had changed.

He hated change.

Change was detrimental to Ma'at, and nothing, not even the Hebrews' god, would stop him from maintaining order as a Pharaoh should.

_I will fight against any chaos you bring to Egypt, _Rameses vowed, _and I will never waver in my dedication to uphold the traditions of my ancestors. I will _not_ be the weak link. _


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter Three **

_All is in confusion today._

Tuya glided out of the throne room, deep in her troubled thoughts, shaken by Rameses' words and actions. She knew that his anger could get a hold of him, but never had she imagined him to say such words about Moses—or to double the workload of the Hebrew slaves.

_I cannot work out a reason. _

Now she found her favourite spot at the back of the palace where the Nile reached up to the steps, creating a water garden that she could cool her feet in after a long day. But arthritis had stiffened her knees, making it harder for her to sit down on the steps without wincing at least a little. Her fingers were stiffening with age, and she had lotions to fight off wrinkles now lining her eyes and mouth.

Easing herself onto a step, Tuya leaned forward and trailed her hands in the water, letting it flow between her fingers.

_What does he mean by freeing the Hebrews? _Tuya wondered, _they have always been slaves. _

Her memories drew her over a quarter-century—was it so long ago?—back in history. Here, in this very spot, the basket that had held Moses had bumped into her. Rameses was only three years old at the time. She could remember her surprise like it happened only a sunrise ago. How she had immediately warmed to the baby and knew that the first-born son she had lost so many years before Rameses' birth had been returned to her. She hadn't questioned the gods, nor where Moses had come from. But she knew he was not born of her womb.

_I didn't wish him to know that, _Tuya reflected, _I only wished for him and Rameses to grow as brothers, oblivious to the fact they weren't related. I knew the gods meant for us to raise this child, or why would they bring him to the palace? _

She had gone up against her own husband, the now deceased King Seti, just to save at least one child, sickened by what he had done to the others. She didn't love him any less, but neither could she bear to see one more child slaughtered. That was why she had kept Moses.

Then—when Moses had run away, she had suffered such terrible grief, and nightmares of the day she had held her first baby in her arms, death having taken his soul before he could cry for milk. So many years had passed before she had another son—the now Pharaoh Rameses—too terrified that she'd lose another child. But Seti ascended the throne and she'd had no choice but to provide an heir for him. Then about sixteen years later, she lost Moses—or _thought_ she had.

_And Moses was the answer to my prayers for another child, without me fearing losing another at birth. _

The prior gladness, so immutable in its maternal joy, now smudged in the face of confusion.

_Had Moses only returned to free his people? Why? _

Why did he care so much about the slaves? Who or what had inspired him in wherever he had been? Who was this new Hebrew god he spoke of?

_We have heard nothing of a god of the slaves. Why would they need a god? _

They were nothing—the only use for their lives was to build the monuments and buildings of the pharaoh. Though, undeniably, Rameses had made things even worse for them—child labourers, harsher overseers, and longer hours that stretched into night-time.

_Times are I want to speak up, _Tuya admitted to herself, _but Rameses is pharaoh, and as a god, he can do anything he wishes. _

That didn't mean she had to agree with it.

A question intruded, a disturbing one that prickled the hairs on the back of her neck.

_Moses was born into slavery. _

If he hadn't floated down the Nile in the basket, would he be a slave today? She shivered to think of her adoptive son slaving with the other Hebrews.

_Rameses would see him no better than dirt if the gods had willed Moses to be a slave rather than a prince. _

She gasped so soft, only the nearby ibises floating on the water heard.

_And I too would see him no better than a slave, a faceless labourer amongst thousands. _

And today, Rameses was so furious when he returned from meeting with Moses, it had alarmed her. What awful exchange had come between them that Rameses doubled the slaves' workloads and claimed Moses had betrayed the family?

_I must speak with Moses, _Tuya decided, _I need to see his reasoning and understand why. Maybe I will understand better than Rameses. Moses has always been reasonable._

She sighed, saddened to think that something changed between the brothers, enough to estrange them over a god's command. She tried to comfort herself with knowing that in the past, if the boys had an argument, they usually were on speaking terms again by sunset the same day, if not the next morning. Nothing could have come between them.

_But twelve years is such a long time, _Tuya reasoned, staring at her own palms in her lap, _is it enough for two men to change so much it is as though they no longer know who the other is? _

Her decision confirmed, the King's Mother rose to her feet, turning to return to the palace.

_I will send a messenger tomorrow to the village, _she told herself, _Moses must come speak with me, so I understand what is going on. And perhaps with understanding, they can be brothers as they once were again. _


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter Four**

Moses, Tzipporah, and Gershom had found an abandoned house to sleep in in the Hebrew village near the palace. They had been given bread and fruit by some good soul who took pity on the travellers, insisting that they take the goods for free. For now, Moses and his small family settled for an empty house to sleep in. They didn't mind having to sleep on the floor, using their robes and rolled-up blankets as makeshift pillows and bedspreads.

_It will not be for long, _Moses assured himself, _surely Rameses will see sense soon. _

While Tzipporah prepared the meal, Moses sat in deep thought. Gershom idly played with Moses' staff, seeming to have forgotten it had been a snake only a few hours ago.

"You're thinking about what happened today," Tzipporah guessed as she sat down across from her husband, leaning her elbows on the table. "I know you are."

Moses let loose a sigh, his eyes full of puzzlement. "I don't know why he doesn't listen."

"Did God tell you Pharaoh would refuse to let the people go?"

Moses closed his eyes, trying to recall his first meeting with God. The burning bush had been ethereal, something from an entirely different world, one he could not even begin to imagine. While his memory was usually sharp, God's words had begun to blur in his recollections.

_Had he said pharaoh wouldn't listen? _Moses asked himself. _Or had he told me different? _

The only thing he could remember was God teaching him the four words to speak to Rameses: "Let my people go!"

And he remembered something else in that first, wondrous meeting with God.

"God told me he will show all his wonders," Moses recalled.

"Did he say what kind of wonders?"

Moses shook his head. It was all he remembered for now.

Tzipporah leaned forward, her hands open, palms facing up. "I want to know what happened."

"I already told you."

"No—I mean when you spoke with pharaoh."

Moses waved a hand aside, as though it didn't matter. But he knew Tzipporah wouldn't believe that. She knew him too well.

"Tzipporah, Rameses has always been stubborn," he said, "but I know he will relent."

Tzipporah frowned, her eyebrows coming together in doubt. "You told me he chose to double the Hebrews' workload. I fear that he may do worse if you persist."

"God knows what he is doing, Tzipporah."

"I trust you on that," Tzipporah assured, cupping one of Moses' hands in her own two, "I am just worried for your people, as much I am sure you are."

"It is not just Rameses I am thinking about," Moses admitted, squeezing Tzipporah's hand, "I am worried how Queen Tuya will take it. After all, she _did _raise me."

"She is not your true mother."

Moses withdrew his hand, shaking his head. "She's as good as, Tzipporah—Queen Tuya was the only mother I knew."

"You do not recall your own blood mother?"

_Hush now, my baby, be still love, don't cry…_

The words threaded into his heart from a long-forgotten corner of his unconscious. The sight of his sister, Miriam, kneeling on the night-soaked ground burned before his eyes. Her arms encircled in a loose hold, as though holding a baby. The last lullaby she sung that had threaded through eighteen years of dreams.

_I had treated my sister no better than a slave. _

"Moses?" Tzipporah's hand reached forward and brushed the side of his face. "What is it?"

He inhaled a shaky breath, but wasn't quite ready to tell Tzipporah what had happened so long ago.

_I treated Miriam no better than slaves, threatening her with punishment. _

How could he ever forgive himself for it?

_How can she forgive _me?

Moses could still see Miriam in his mind's eye, the way she had allowed a tear to fall, her small smile even despite being threatened with punishment. As though she still believed in his goodness. She believed in him, and he had treated her with the harsh coldness of a prince.

Now he became aware of Tzipporah sitting down next to him, wrapping her arms around his waist, her head on his shoulder.

"Something still bothers you, Moses," she murmured, "I know it does."

_I can't tell her how I treated my own sister, not when she has three beloved sisters—sisters she may never see again. _

Instead, Moses planted a tender kiss on her head, inhaling the scent of her thick hair.

"I will tell you someday," he promised, "but that day is not today."

* * *

_Knock. Knock. Knock. Knock!_

Moses mumbled in his sleep as he slipped out of sleep at the insistent knocks on the door. He squinted up at the window in front of him—the sun was barely up. He heard Tzipporah moving around next to him.

_Who would knock at this hour? _

Grumbling, Moses pulled himself upright, still maintaining a level of caution.

_Knock! Knock! _

"Have a little patience," he grumbled to the knocker behind the door, "I only just got up."

_It's too early! _

Opening the door just a crack, he peered around to see who it was. He saw a youth, probably no older than fourteen or fifteen, standing at the threshold. The boy had not reached manhood, for he still sported a plaited side-lock that curled over his left shoulder. His hand had been poised to knock again, but let it drop back by his side when Moses appeared at the door.

"Sorry to wake you so early," the boy apologised, "but are you Moses?"

Moses eyed him, wary, "Why do you ask?"

"I have asked others in this village if they had seen three new travellers—a couple and a little boy—"

"You've been waking everyone else at this hour?"

The boy grinned, too cheery and bright-eyed for this time of day, when the sun itself was just rubbing its eyes.

"I sure have!" he admitted with a merry chirp in his words, "but _are _you Moses? I come with a message from the palace."

_Could it be from Rameses? _Moses wondered, _Could he have changed his mind—_

"It is from the queen," the boy explained, "would you know where Moses is?"

_What could Queen Tuya want? _

"I am Moses," the shepherd said, "what is this message from the palace?"

"The King's Mother, Queen Tuya, wishes to speak with you today, this morning if possible."

Moses rubbed his chin, thinking. "Why does she wish to speak with me, boy?"

"She never said—just that she had something important to talk to you about. You come to palace this morning, before the midday meal! Have a good morning!"

With that, the boy sprinted away, not sticking around for Moses' response. He must have come to the same realisation, as the kid ran back to Moses' temporary home.

"Sorry, but I forgot to ask!" the boy chirped, "Are you coming to speak with her?"

Moses looked over his shoulder at Tzipporah and Gershom, the latter cuddled up to his mother. They both waited as much as the boy at the door for his answer.

_Mother may see reason and listen, _Moses mused, _she may be able to persuade Rameses to listen. _

He turned back to the grinning boy.

_Who smiles like that at this hour? _

"Tell her I will be there when I am ready. Give it a few hours, boy, and I will be awake enough to speak with her, alright?"

"Sure thing, friend!"

The boy sprinted off on lithe legs as Moses shut the door on him, grumbling under his breath about morning people. Tzipporah had unlatched Gershom from her and stood up with a huge yawn.

"You're going to speak with the king's mother?" Tzipporah asked.

"I know you may disagree—"

"I don't disagree, Moses, I just wonder what good will it do?"

"Tzipporah, I have faith that God knows what He is doing. Perhaps mother may be more reasonable."

"And if she is not?"

"Then God will find a way to persuade Rameses," Moses said, not wanting to speak his fears on what God might have to do to persuade the pharaoh.

_How much would it take to persuade Rameses? _

Moses just prayed that it would be enough—the pharaoh had to bend to God's command sooner or later.

_He must listen! And if he doesn't listen to his mother when I speak with her, then who will persuade him? _

A little voice in his head whispered, _God will. Have faith, Moses. _

* * *

A few hours later, when the sun drenched the date palms and the papyrus reeds in harsh light, Moses observed from his doorframe as the remainder of the slaves in the village trekked to their daily torture under the whip. Deadened eyes, hopeless, bent backs, and raised scars forced Moses to close his eyes, waiting until they had passed. Every now and again, he heard his name. It seemed word had gotten out that he had returned to Egypt. But the words were not welcoming.

"After all this time…" grumbled one.

"Doubled workload…thanks to Moses…"

"Some help he's been…"

Moses did not allow Tzipporah to see how much this hurt him inside. The knowledge that his own people blamed him for the doubled workload weighed heavy in his heart.

_I tried my best…_

When the slaves had disappeared, Moses stepped out and walked to the palace, his thoughts troubled. His attention kept wandering to the distant slaves under the overseers' harsh whips and ruthless, rough hands. Today, they would be forced to do double the work already impossible for a thousand men to do. To his surprise, he found himself bitter toward Rameses, blaming him for what had happened to the Hebrews.

_It is his own fault, not mine. I did not bring this upon them—it is Rameses' stubbornness. If mother can't persuade her own son, then who can? _

He walked into the palace, ignoring the milling servants, overseers, priests, and scribes. All were busy fussing over their morning business, oblivious to the foreigner in his red robes and bare feet. Moses didn't care whether they saw him or not—he was here on God's mission, and that was all that counted.

_Now if only I can remember her favourite spot to talk with us. _

Moses recalled the Nile waters lapping up to the stairs at the back of the palace, where a water garden glittered under the eye of the sun. The birds that glided down, floating without a worry on the water, rippling the sheer curtains with the breeze from their wings. Water lilies bobbing on the surface of the water, and white lotuses gazing up at the deep sky dotted the water. The water garden with its shady sycamore trees stretching arms over the pool to shade its inhabitants.

_Over there. _

As though they remembered on their own, his feet moved him in the direction of the water garden with its lotuses that even now would be opening up their petals to the sunshine.

"There you are."

There was Queen Tuya, waiting for him just inside the archway leading to the water garden. The King's Mother dismissed a servant who hovered near her, and beckoned to Moses.

"Let us talk, Moses," Tuya invited, "Come and sit with me."

Memories of spending time here in the water garden flashed through Moses' head. When he and Rameses were just toddlers, they often waded and splashed each other in the water, supervised very closely by their guardians, lest one slipped under. This was the very place he had last seen Queen Tuya before exiling Egypt. Now he had returned, and here she was, talking with him at the old garden so full of childhood memories.

Moses strolled over to join his mother on the steps, his staff still held firmly in his hand.

_She will understand._

"First," she spoke, "tell me—where _have_ you been all this time?"

"You mean after I ran from Egypt?"

She smiled. "Yes. I see you have a new wife and a child?"

Moses had a flashback to the banquet when he first met his wife. Queen Tuya's expression of disappointment when he'd let Tzipporah fall into the pool still resonated even after all these years.

"Tzipporah—she was the one the priests brought to be Rameses' wife," Moses recalled.

"I thought I recognised her," Tuya said, "Where is she from?"

Moses summarised what had happened between his disappearance from and return to Egypt. He had married Tzipporah—but not before she dumped him in a well in retaliation for what he did to her—and soon enough, a decade later, met God, who appeared to him as a burning bush that was not consumed. His heart ached to see she looked more confused as he attempted to explain how God had appeared.

"It wasn't truly a flame…I mean He appeared as an otherworldly fire that consumed the bush. He embraced me with warmth, security, and compassion," Moses attempted, "When His fire died down, and He had departed from me, the bush was flowering."

_She will not see what I saw, _Moses realised, _it is beyond her comprehension. _

"Your God, does he have a name?"

"I am that I am," Moses recalled.

"That is his true name?"

Moses hesitated, "I believe so. If this is His name, then it is His true name."

Tuya clasped her hands in her lap, silent for a moment.

"Why does your Hebrew god wish your people freed?"

Moses looked Tuya square in the eye, "Because His people have been enslaved too long. I must deliver them out of slavery at his command. I have asked Rameses to let the people go, and he refused."

Tuya straightened her back, moving her shoulders as though preparing to deliver a small speech herself.

"I have spoken to Rameses," Tuya revealed, "I think you have upset him more than you realise."

Moses hardened his resolve. "He has taken it out on _my_ people by doubling their workload—he should have listened."

Tuya attempted to lay a soothing hand on Moses' shoulder, but he flinched away.

"Please, listen to me," she pleaded, "you have not seen how upset he was when you ran away and we thought you dead. It upsets me that you have returned only for your people."

Moses fidgeted, wanting to get away all of a sudden. This conversation had begun to make him uncomfortable, yet could not quite pinpoint why.

_She'll never know why I want to see the Hebrews freed from slavery. _

"You know Seti has—"

"Seti killed the children of my people!" Moses interrupted, his voice sharp, "I will not allow it to happen again—God will see the Hebrews freed at any cost!"

"Even at the cost of your own brother's happiness that you're alive?"

Moses opened his mouth, but no words came. He sighed, half frustrated, half exasperated.

"I don't want to hurt him—just that I wish he would see what I do. The Hebrews have been enslaved long enough."

"Moses, do you realise how much people can change in twelve years?" Tuya asked, "Rameses has changed as much as you have. While you were away, he had to cope with not just your absence, but also his father's lectures."

Perhaps it was the way her voice cracked a little as she spoke, or the deep sadness in her eyes, but something made Moses pause, considering her words.

"Rameses told me he would not be the weak link," Moses said, "but freeing the Hebrews will make Egypt stronger, not weaker. People will see he has the compassion to stop slavery."

"Who will he use to replace the slaves?" Tuya asked.

"Other labourers."

"And where will he find them?"

"He will have to find them himself," Moses declared, standing up. He wanted to go back to Tzipporah and Gershom. "Perhaps he will look in other lands for them, but the Hebrews will never be slaves again."

Tuya too stood up, placing a placating hand on Moses' shoulder. "Just remember how tough Seti has been to Rameses," she pleaded, "he has had it tougher without you around. I know he has, even if he doesn't show it."

"But Seti is no longer alive."

"It doesn't matter—Seti's words have changed him, Moses. He is afraid of being a weak king."

Moses turned his back on Tuya, but not before saying, "He may have to take that chance. Goodbye, mother."

With that, Moses walked away from the King's Mother, never looking back even once.

_I will see my people freed, no matter how much it hurts my mother and brother. It is God's command. My people have been enslaved for too many years. They _will _be set free! _


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter Five**

"How did it go?" Tzipporah queried of Moses as soon as he walked in the door.

Leaning his staff against the wall, he shook his head. "I don't think she understands."

Tzipporah pursed her lips, the words 'I told you so' left unspoken.

"She does not understand our God," Tzipporah guessed, "I suppose she sided with Pharaoh."

Gershom peeked out from behind the table, immediately running to his father, reaching up to be lifted into his arms. Grateful for the distraction, Moses bent to pick Gershom up. A response formed in his mind as he settled his son on his hip.

"I told her about how God had appeared to me," Moses began, "and how he has given me this mission to free my people."

"Did she react as Pharaoh had?"

Moses shook his head, "I don't think she grasped the full meaning of why I am doing what I must."

Tzipporah drummed her fingers on the table. "I didn't think she would understand."

"Tzipporah—"

"I know you wanted to try," she interrupted, "and I know you wanted to believe in their goodness, but is it worth it?"

"I hope so, Tzipporah," Moses sighed, "we can only hope so. Perhaps God will convince the palace soon. Now we can only wait and see."

Tzipporah stood up and grabbed a few stale bread loaves from a sack in the corner. She turned, frowning at her husband.

"Why did you believe she would understand or that the Pharaoh would? Are they not the ones oppressing the slaves?"

Moses wasn't quite so sure himself. Perhaps it was part naivety and part faith that everything would turn out alright, and that the slaves would be set free at his request.

_What is God planning to do? _

"I wanted to believe in their goodness," Moses said, "I wanted to have faith that they would listen."

"And they didn't!" Tzipporah cried, "You see? It was for nothing."

Moses laid a hand on her shoulder, not wanting to see the anger in her eyes, the bitterness in her voice against the family he had once called his own.

"Let's not say it was for nothing, yet," he cautioned, "it is too early to say."

_I don't want it to be for nothing, _he thought, _I want to free the Hebrews, so I don't fight my adoptive family longer than I wish to. _

Tzipporah wound an arm around Moses' waist. "I know how hard it is for you to fight against your family, but believe me. God has sent you to free your people, and sometimes we must accept the cost."

_Is the cost worth it? _Moses mused, _will it be worth costing the love and understanding of Queen Tuya and of Rameses? _

Then he remembered again the slaves' doubled workload, all due to Rameses' command, born out of fury and unbelief. He bit his lower lip, not wanting to imagine the horrible torture they would be enduring under the hot sun.

_It wasn't my fault, _Moses assured himself, _it was Rameses' command, not mine. _

But why would God allow pharaoh to double the slaves' workload, rather than set them free? Did he have something else in mind?

_When will the Hebrews be free? _

Moses prayed it would be soon, before it was too late.

* * *

The couple waited until the sun had sunk well under noontime height and heat before setting out to where the slaves would be labouring in mud and clay for yet another obscenely gargantuan monument. Clay-caked slaves laboured in clay pits, carrying sacksful of straw, and dripped sweat into bricks of mud and clay. Moses shuddered to see how emaciated so many of them were, hardly more than flesh and bone.

_They are like skeletons, _Moses observed, a chill prickling his spine, _they appear to be alive only by virtue of a heartbeat. _

Tzipporah walked just behind Moses, holding Gershom on her hip, her arms firmly wrapped around him. She raised a hand to cover his eyes from the sight of overseers whipping Hebrews inches from death's doorstep, with a hundred heartbeats left. Moses looked away as a harsh overseer with a scar across one eye whipped a small child for dropping a sack of straw. He grew indignant at this sight, a child, so innocent and young, abused by the overseer.

_Even God would not find it in Himself to forgive them, _Moses thought, _the lives of these slaves is deplorable in its inhumanity. _

Out of nowhere, a clod of clay struck him on the temple, causing him to grunt in surprise. Stumbling, he lost his footing, falling bodily into a clay pit, his face smacking into the hard earth.

"Moses!" Tzipporah cried, "Oh!"

He felt Tzipporah's hands on his shoulders, and Gershom tugging at his arm.

"Father!"

"I'm alright," Moses groaned, trying to sit up again, "what was that?"

But before Tzipporah could explain, the withered shadow of a slave fell over them.

"So, _Moses_," demanded a familiar voice, "how does it feel when _you_ getstruck to the ground?"

Even against the sunlight, Moses recognised the man's face, and his name stirred in his recollections.

_Aaron. _

His heart heavy with regret, Moses could not bear looking at his brother—his true, blood brother. Like the other Hebrew slaves, his body was gaunt, his ribs visible under thin flesh. Years of inhumane labour had hollowed his face. But his eyes burned not with hopelessness, but with hidden fury. Gathering around Aaron were the shrunken, wasted figures of more slaves, their faces just as angry and bitter as his.

_He is right to be angry, _Moses told himself, _after all, I had looked away, blind, for too many years. _

"I…" Moses's voice faltered, choked, "I didn't mean to cause you more pain. I'm…I'm just trying to do as God asked me to."

"God?" Aaron spat out, bitterness in each letter, "When did God start caring about _us_?"

Moses's guilt twisted like a knife in his heart with each word. He bowed his head, tears burning behind his eyelids. His breath came restricted, his throat closing as though he would begin to weep at any moment. How could he have allowed his own blood brother and sister to endure such pain? Why did he run away, abandoning them to such horrors?

_Was I a coward?_

"Moses, when did _you_ start caring about slaves?" Aaron continued his rant, "Was it when you found out that you were one of us?"

Moses hung his head, "I did not see because I…I did not wish to see."

"You didn't see because you _didn't _wish to see?" Aaron echoed, "Aaaah. Well that makes everything _fine_ then, _doesn't _it?"

"Aaron!" interrupted a woman who had strode up to Aaron without his notice. He jumped as the woman with the pink dress and thick, curly brown tresses appeared at his side.

"You shame yourself!" Miriam chastised, before turning to look at Moses.

Moses gazed back at Miriam, eyes full of nothing but regret, guilt, and shame.

"Miriam…" he breathed, the memory of her tearful lullaby threading into his heart, "I'm so sorry…I…I…"

Tears blurred his vision, born of shame and guilt. This sweet, beautiful sister of his…he had allowed her to endure slavery for twelve more years. He hid his face from her with a hand, feeling Gershom's little hands pull at his wrist.

"Father?" Gershom squeaked, unsure of what was going on.

"Come here," Tzipporah told him, pulling her son back from the angry slaves and the grieving Moses hiding his face from the Hebrews.

With a sad sigh, Miriam knelt down across from Moses, placing a consoling hand on his shoulder. In her soothing voice, calm despite the words she spoke of the tortured lifetime of slavery, Miriam taught Moses of the protection God had bestowed on him. Her faith was so strong, immovable like the sky above and the ground below. Moses could only feel his shame deepen.

Miriam cupped a hand, calloused from labour, under his chin, lifting his face so he gazed at her, his soulful eyes glistening with remorse.

"God will not abandon you," she encouraged her brother, "so don't you abandon us. He has given you a son as his promise he will always be with you and…" she looked over at Tzipporah.

"Tzipporah," she half-whispered, "I am his wife. Gershom is our son."

Miriam bestowed the smallest of smiles, and even this near imperceptible gesture strengthened Moses's resolve again. If Aaron was bitter toward him—how could he forgive the brother who had run away in shame?—then at least Miriam was at his side, her love and faith never faltering for a moment. Gershom wriggled out of Tzipporah's loose hold and, with a child's shyness, touched Miriam's arm. It was a fleeting touch of little fingers on skin toughened by years under the harsh Egyptian sun, but Miriam turned her head to see him staring at her. With the same smile, she touched the top of his head with a hand.

"God is with us all, and he will not abandon your father," Miriam whispered, "I promise, Gershom."

A tiny, trembling smile broke from Gershom's timid face at Miriam's words. The woman's own smile deepened, reaching her eyes with its genuine tenderness.

"Look!" someone cried, voice trembling, "it is the royal barge."

The crowd above the lip of the clay pit parted, allowing Moses a glimpse of the golden barge being rowed along the river.

_The king dares to row past _us_ without a care! _Moses railed, _Rameses must see we suffer at his hands. _His_ hands! _

Dragging his staff out of the mud, Moses pulled himself upright. Tzipporah bent forward to pick up Gershom as Moses strode out toward the Nile bank, his hand clenched so tight, his veins bulged under his skin. His knuckles were white like the limestone bricks some women had been working on, but had stopped, distracted by Moses's appearance and the royal barge's impertinent appearance.

Moses's muscles tensed, ready for a confrontation, as he marched up to the Nile's banks, his people following behind him, as though hoping that this time his ordinance from God would see triumph.

"_Rameses!_" Moses yelled, his voice startling wildlife into silence, "_Let my people go!_"

"Go father!" Gershom cheered from behind him, "Let us go, stupid king!"

"Gershom!" Tzipporah chided.

Out on the barge, Rameses slouched on the chair like some pudgy officer—though Rameses could hardly be called "pudgy"; if his muscles were anything to go by, "athletic" was a more apt word. The king sat up, his arm hanging limp without a care over the armrest. His cynical laughter reached out and slapped the collective Hebrews in the face with its impudence.

"Still gnawing away at that bone, are we?" he quipped, waving at his rowers, "carry on."

"You can't keep ignoring us!" Moses roared from the banks, striding to match the boat's pace.

"_Enough._" Rameses growled, snapping his fingers at a couple guards, "Bring him to me!"

At once, two burly guards jumped into the water, knives bared and expressions grim. The pharaoh's son skipped excitedly to the edge of the boat, eager to see what the guards would do with Moses. Moses heard both Tzipporah and Gershom cry out in fear for his life, but the shepherd remained where he was, waiting for God's whisper.

_Place your staff into the water, _God whispered.

Moses waded into the water until the liquid wetted his ankles and the hems of his robes. He never flinched as the guards waded closer, their knives glinting under the gathering black clouds. Closing his eyes, Moses dipped the staff into the water. No sooner had the end of the stick touched the sandy bottom, then tendrils of thick, dark red liquid streamed out into the river. The streams coagulated into puddles, and the puddles merged into each other, until the river's waters turned into sticky, thick blood. The guards stopped wading, one of them frowning in consternation as he dipped his hand in the water. Looking up, Moses's stomach churned. The river had turned into an entire body of blood.

_God has worked his wonder, _Moses marvelled, despite the tingling of nausea in his throat, _surely pharaoh will listen. _

The three guards panicked, screaming as they waded back to their king. One of them tripped on a hidden piece of driftwood, dunking him entirely under the bloody liquid.

"Hah, hah!" Gershom taunted the guard, "Enjoy your bath!"

Tzipporah didn't reprimand him this time, perhaps just as horrified at the sight of the bloody Nile. Unshaken, Moses watched the guards clamber on the ship, the blood splattering on everything including the servant who screamed and leapt back. A few drops splattered on Rameses' kilt, head-cloth, and arms. He recoiled with a cry of disgust, before turning furiously on the two cowering priests.

"_Explain this to me!_" he demanded through clenched teeth.

"God showed you!" Gershom shouted, "You're weak! A weak man!"

"_Gershom!_" Tzipporah chided angrily, "That's _enough._"

The priests now presented a bowl to the pharaoh, who dipped his hand in the water and brought it out again, dripping with light pink droplets. He chuckled, turning to address Moses on the shore.

"Abandon this futile mission, Moses!" Rameses crowed, "I've indulged you long enough! This must now be finished!"

Crossing his arms, Rameses turned his back on the shore, feet planted at shoulders' width. The rowers now seemed curiously eager to row back to the palace as fast as they could.

"No Rameses," Moses whispered, "it is only the beginning."

_He still refuses, _Moses thought, both dismayed and frustrated, _Pharaoh still refuses to let my people go, even after such a powerful sign from God. _

"But didn't you see what happened?" Aaron asked from behind him, "The priests did the same thing. Pharaoh still has the power over our lives."

Moses's heart ached to hear the hopelessness in his brother's words. His brotherly instinct stirring in him, he laid a hand on his shoulder.

_I have to be strong for Aaron, for Miriam, for everyone. _

"Yes, Aaron, it's true pharaoh has the power," he agreed, "he can take away your food, your homes, your sons and daughters." Moses strolled deeper into the crowd, his words growing stronger with each step, with each glance, "with one word, pharaoh can take away your very lives. But there is one thing he cannot take away from you," Moses, shoulders squared and voice steady and strong, stood up, looking right into the Hebrews' eyes. "Your faith. Believe, for we _will _see God's wonders."

One last thought crept into his heart as he laid eyes on the palace, remembering the water garden where the river lapped gently onto stairs trodden by royal feet.

_The beautiful water garden, so clear and pristine, is now full of blood. _

In his mind, he imagined the lotuses floating in that water garden, their petals now stained and drenched with blood.


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter Six**

Their feet making soft ripples in the water, two royal ladies sat conversing at the water garden's border at the back of the palace. Deep in conversation, Nefertari and Queen Tuya barely noticed the water curdling into thick blood. Soon there came a lull in the conversation as the two women ended a previous discussion.

"My ladies!" a servant shrieked behind them. "The water!"

Both Nefertari and Tuya looked down into the water garden, and leaped up, pulling their feet out of the pool, toenails and flesh bloodied without an injury. It was too late to save the hems of their dresses, now stained a light pinkish-red from the blood's obscene touch. One of the two attending servants began screaming her head off. Nefertari slapped her on the cheek, stunning her into an open-mouthed, mute stupor.

"Stop that you silly girl!" Nefertari ordered, "Go find a priest! _Now!_"

Jaw chattering, the servant nodded and pelted up the stairs. The other attending servant dug fingernails into her own cheeks, eyes white with terror.

"What is happening, my ladies?" she cried, "what is this horror?"

"We know as much as you do!" Nefertari snapped at her.

Tuya herself kept staring at the water, her eyes catching sight of the now crimson river.

"Nefertari…" she breathed, "the river."

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Nefertari turn to look. The Great Royal Wife gasped in horror, clasping a hand over her mouth.

"It seems…" Tuya began, a shiver crawling up her spine, "it seems the gods are unhappy with us."

"_Seems?_" Nefertari repeated, "it only _seems_ that the gods are unhappy with us?"

"We must pray to Hapi at once," Tuya said.

"That's why I sent off the servant," Nefertari pointed out, "the priests will know what to do."

Though they knew Hotep and Huy were out on the excursion with King Rameses, there were other priests near the palace who would know what to do.

"Your Majesties?" piped up the second servant, "Do…do you suppose Horus and Set are fighting again?"

Tuya recalled the story of Horus and Set fighting for Osiris' throne, a battle that lasted eighty years. The two gods fought as humans, then crocodiles, and then two furious, thrashing hippos. The river had run red with the gods' blood. Had the Nile been consumed with blood as much as it was now?

_Are the two gods battling again? _

"I don't know," Tuya admitted, "I feel sure we would have seen signs if they were."

"Set couldn't disobey Ra's orders to cease fighting," Nefertari debated.

"And what of Sekhmet?" the servant interrupted, voice trembling, "will she come down to the Nile in lioness form? After all, she has a taste for blood."

"That is true," Nefertari conceded, "but Sekhmet has already been tamed of her lust for blood, thanks to Ra's interventions."

Tuya recalled the story of how Ra had sent Sekhmet to Earth to kill all the humans who had begun disobeying him and had turned to evil-doings. When he saw how many innocents were dying, Ra ordered her to cease and desist. But she had become addicted, dependant on the taste of human blood. Ra ended up forming an urgent meeting with the gods and formulated a cunning plan to thwart Sekhmet's bloodlust with a lake of wine, reddened by deposits of iron oxide. It succeeded, with Sekhmet likely waking up with a migraine to rival any mortal's the morning after a feast.

"I hope there hasn't been a mass murder!" the servant cried, looking ready to pass out.

Nefertari shot her a stern glare, "Stop your panicking," she commanded, "there is a reason behind this."

_It can't be a mass murder, _Tuya mused, _there is more blood than there is in all men, women, and children in Egypt. _

"If there has been a mass-murder," Tuya told the servant, placing a hand on the girl's quaking shoulder, "there would be more bodies in the water."

"More…bodies?" the servant croaked.

The servant collapsed, her eyes rolling back into her head. Nefertari caught her in time, lest the servant smacked her head on the steps.

"That's the way to reassure her," Nefertari said sarcastically, "'there would be more bodies'. No wonder she has fainted. I opine that you need a little advice in properly assuring our servants, Tuya!"

Nefertari slapped the servant sharp on her cheeks, waking her up again with a groan.

"Ugh," she croaked.

"You just passed out," Nefertari told her, "Come on, back with you to your servants' chambers." The queen glanced back up the stairs. "What is taking that other servant so long?"

As though her words bade her presence, the second servant appeared at the top of the steps, walking with steady feet to the two women.

"Your Majesties," she greeted, eyes closed to avoid looking at the water, "I have found a priest who will pray to Hapi for us."

"Good," Tuya approved, "Let us hope his prayers will restore the waters."

"Furthermore," the servant continued, eyes still screwed shut, "His Majesty has returned, quite furious, with his two priests and his Son of His Body."

"Why is His Majesty so furious?" Nefertari queried.

"I did not wish to risk asking," the servant admitted, opening her eyes a smidge, "is Kiya alright?"

Nefertari looked at the servant still leaning heavily on her. "Take her to the servants' chambers, girl, and lay her down in a cool corner away from the sun. My Majesty and the King's Mother will speak later with His Majesty."

The servant nodded, even as she helped her companion upright, so now she leaned on her.

"It'll be alright, dear," she soothed the other servant, "we'll lie you down in your bed. Have you had an accident with the green eye-shadow?"

"Very funny," the second servant groaned, voice thick with nausea, "just…ugh!"

Both royal women grimaced and turned their heads away as the poor servant brought up her lunch.

"We'll have someone clean that up later," Nefertari said without turning around. "Just get her to her bed."

Tuya stared at the water, shaking her head slowly in befuddlement. No mass-murderer could have spilled that much blood into the river.

_It is not the work of a mortal, _she thought, _it is the work of gods. _

* * *

When Nefertari and Tuya returned to the audience chamber of the palace, they discovered Rameses demanding all his courtiers to leave him alone. His voice rang off the pillars and walls, anger in each syllable. He held his son in his arms, even as he told every soul to leave him alone for the evening. Only after all the courtiers had left, then he noticed Nefertari and Tuya standing back at the entrance to the private throne room, used for meeting with individuals and small groups of officials. He lowered his child onto the floor, the boy running to Nefertari, who scooped him up with a kiss. But it was Tuya who approached the king.

"What has happened?" she queried.

Rameses snorted, "What do you think? Moses has turned the river into blood."

Tuya looked at him, confused. "W-what are you talking about?"

"If you haven't noticed, the river has turned into blood!" Rameses thumped his fist on the throne's armrest. "You should have heard Moses today. _You can't keep ignoring us! Let my people go!_"

Nefertari rushed to her king's side, placing a hand on his fist. "Go back a little, Rameses. I don't understand what you are saying."

"Did he expect meto let the slaves go just like that?" Rameses snapped his fingers, "What did he think would happen just walking up to the Nile and shouting at us?"

"Yeah!" chimed in Rameses' son, "He told father to do it now!"

_Something's not right here, _Tuya thought, _Moses just walked up to the river and demanded the slaves' freedom? _

"Hold up, Rameses," Tuya said, "Are you saying Moses just walked up to the river and shouted at you?"

Rameses clenched his jaw. "Yes," he confirmed through gritted teeth, "Spoiled a perfectly pleasant evening excursion too. And then he _turns the river to blood!_"

Tuya couldn't speak, at a loss for words.

"That was _Moses's_ work?" she managed.

_How could it be his doing? _Tuya wondered, _How can a mortal do this unless he was a god or had the power of a god? _

"Yes. I don't know what's up with that staff of his, but it is dangerous!" Rameses ranted.

Nefertari nodded, totally on her husband's side. "You are quite right, my king. You must exercise caution against him."

Rameses' fist relaxed, his fingers now curling around his wife's hand. "I intend to, Nefertari."

_Should I speak again with Moses? _Tuya asked herself, _Why does he speak so harsh against Rameses? Before, he would have just spoken like a brother to a brother. Shouts and demands are only causing defensiveness in my son's heart, not reason. _

"Do you wish for me to speak again to Moses, or send a messenger with a letter?" Tuya asked.

"No," Rameses said with a dismissive hand, "He will not hear reason or speak well to us." Rameses straightened in his throne, his expression hard. "As long as he demands to let the people go, I will refuse."

"Has he not said whom could replace the slaves should they go?" Tuya asked.

"No," Rameses answered, "He expects me to just let the Hebrews leave."

"That will destroy our workforce!" Nefertari exclaimed, shaking her head in disgust, "Who will build our monuments when they are gone?"

Rameses stared hard at his wife. "The slaves will _not_ be going, Nefertari. They will stay in Egypt. Unless he gives me someone to replace the slaves, I will not listen to him. I doubt he has anything in mind—just take them away from my land, depriving me of a workforce, bringing Egypt's architectural building to a halt!"

_Rameses is right, _Tuya admitted, _for who will build the monuments and temples of the gods if the slaves are allowed free? Who? _

That question echoed in her head, followed by a daring thought she did not speak aloud to Rameses—not yet anyway.

_Can _I_ come up with something? And would Moses and Rameses agree with the answer the gods will bestow on my heart? _

Tuya decided at that moment: she would think of something, if only to see Moses's command from this strange Hebrew god be fulfilled and granted. But _only_ if she could think up a reasonable plan to replace the slaves, should Moses's demands be fulfilled.

_Oh gods, _she prayed, _help me come to an answer so this strange event will be over, and my sons can be brothers again as they always were! _


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter Seven**

The sun rose on a viscous, dark crimson Nile the next morning. Rays of sunlight falling across his kilt and flesh, King Rameses watched the dawn from the courtyard of his palace. He had already been readied for the day by his attendants and servants, and now he crossed his arms, frowning at the red river. In the garden before him, frogs blinked sleepily in the sunrise, their bulbous eyes reflecting golden light Small insects with glossy wings darted over the lily pads and lotuses bobbing in the calm, mirror-like pond. Flowers that closed their petals against the night now began opening up to embrace the morning.

_I have made my decision, _he told himself, _I will never let the Hebrews leave my land. _

Only his fanbearer stood behind him, the elongated shadow of the fan brushing over the ground around Rameses's feet. One large, black ostrich feather blinked in and out of his peripheral vision as the boy waved the unwieldy fan.

_I will address the populace from my window of attendance, _Rameses decided, _I will tell them that the Hebrews will stay. _

"The river looks interesting in the sunrise, doesn't it, Your Majesty?" the young fan-bearer blurted, then clapped a hand to his mouth, "Pardon me, Your Majesty."

"You are young," Rameses told him, "Just don't make the mistake of speaking without permission next time."

Many people resided in the palace, but many thousands also lived in his beloved land. If the river continued to run with blood, how much longer could the populace live without water? Much as he believed the slaves beneath him, if they all died of thirst, then who would labour for him?

_If it doesn't clear by tomorrow, our wells will have no more water, _Rameses guessed, _and the people will have nothing to quench their thirst. _

Beer supplies, drunk by everyone except the lowliest slaves, would soon run dry. Even beer needed water to dissolve the yeast and barley in its mixture. The palace would get by with wine, made from the finest grapes or figs in the land. But it was only the nobility and royalty who could afford, let alone drink, wine.

"Good morning," greeted Nefertari as she glided up beside him. But no sooner did she coil an arm around her beloved, she flinched. Her mouth curled in disgust as she spotted the still bloody river. "It's _still _vile with blood!"

"I can see that," Rameses said, "I am waiting for the priests to tell me the temple is ready."

"You will pray to Ra today?"

"And to Hapi, the god of the river. They will have an answer, and they will purify our river."

_The river will be pure again by tomorrow, _Rameses promised himself, _and our water will not run out. Even the slaves need to drink. _

* * *

Later the same morning, Rameses met with Hotep and Huy in the sacred temple to Amun-Ra. Four servants carried his carrying chair with its gauzy linen curtains to hide him from mortals' view. The four men's muscly shoulders strained as they carried the golden carrying chair up the steps into the incense-infused interior of the temple of Ra, before setting it down to allow the pharaoh to walk inside.

The heady incense inside the temple swum into Rameses' nose; its pungent aroma created a small headache at his left temple. The incense always gave Rameses the same little twinge at his temple, and this wasn't any different. The torches burned dim, causing shadows to shift in rapid waves over the faces of towering statues, so their eyes seemed to follow every movement. A statue of Hapi, hidden inside a sanctuary, reclined at the far end of the temple, a vessel for the god's _ba_ that would fly down in the form of a falcon when called forth.

_Hapi will restore the waters, _Rameses assured himself again, _He will see that the water is undrinkable. _

Rows of stone columns, more than twenty metres high, towered over the pharaoh as he walked to the entrance of Hapi's sanctuary where two men waited for the king's arrival. Shafts of sun filtering from barred stone windows set high in the walls shifted over his flesh and kilt as he strolled through shadow and light.

_If I speak to the statue of Hapi in its sanctuary, _Rameses reasoned, _he may listen to our pleas and see. _

Outside the sanctuary of Hapi stood Hotep and Huy, waiting for the king, their hands full of offerings for the god of the river.

"We have readied and awakened the divine statue for your appearance, Your Majesty," Huy announced, "Hapy is ready for the offerings."

A fog of incense clouded the entrance like a mist at dawn over the river. This morning, the mist from the river had been tinted a deep pink-red; the blood had tainted even the mist that rose from the Nile. At least this haze was a smoky grey, clouding Hapi's statue in a fog of mystery.

_I will call for Hapi's ba, and he shall listen through his statue. _

Rameses took the offering of perfumes and food from the priests and stepped into the fog of incense and sacredness. He took a moment to stop and allow his eyes to adjust to the dimness of the sanctuary holding Hapi's statue.

_He will listen to the Morning and Evening Star, for I am the manifestation of Horus on Earth. _

Now Rameses stood in a patch of light shaped by a small square hole in the stone ceiling above him. His scarab necklace with its golden wings winked in the patch of light as he strolled to the offering table before the monument. If all went well, the _ba_ of Hapi would enter the statue and listen without speaking to the King's prayers. The golden falcon of Hapi would descend on his shrine in the Temple of Ra to unite with this _ka_, his physical form in the mortal world. Rameses had never seen a falcon with shining golden plumage descend on a deity's statue, but the gods had their own ways of keeping away from the eyes of mortals.

Rameses placed the bounty of food—figs, dates, and bread loaves—on the offering table, with the perfume laid next to the basket.

_Here is your sustenance, Hapi, so that you will be nourished and hear our askances. _

He raised his arms, palms facing the statue, closing his eyes in deep prayer.

"May your _ba _descend from heaven to your statue here in the divine Temple of Ra," Rameses recited, "and hear me in this sanctuary you call your own."

A brief whoosh of air brushed over his scalp, like a bird sailing over him.

_He has entered as the golden falcon, _Rameses thought, _and joined with one of his many earthly representations. _

His courage emboldened, Rameses continued his plea.

"On behalf of the land whose sacred Nile has turned vile with blood, bestow your benevolence on Egypt and restore the waters that give us life. Give us a sign that you will restore the river so we might live and not die from lack of the life-giving waters."

His prayer finished, the king opened his eyes to the sanctuary's gloom. Through the dim light, save for the square patch of sun on the floor at his feet, Rameses saw the statue had not moved. The eyes stayed unblinking, the full lips remained silent, and its small ears deaf to the king's words.

_He has heard, _Rameses thought, turning away from the statue, not knowing why he was unsettled, _Hapi has heard the plea of a king on behalf of his land. When the Nile runs clear, I will know he has heard me. _

He slowly walked away from Hapi's statue, which still did not move, not even to partake in the nourishing food offered before its feet. It didn't matter, for Hapi would feed on the substance of the food without needing to eat the actual meal. The perfume would please the god, who soon would rise from his statue as a golden falcon, each feather taking away the scent of the incense and perfume. The incense's potency would act as a thermal of warm air pushing Hapi's golden _ba_ up to the heavens, guided by a shaft of square sunlight threading through a small hole in the stone ceiling of the sanctuary.

_He has heard me, and will restore the waters, sanctifying it as it was before it turned into blood. _

* * *

The sunlight and noise stunned Rameses as he stepped out of the temple's entrance, followed by the two high priests, Hotep and Huy. The barrage of noise from a nearby marketplace full of bickering traders, children harassing their parents, and loud chatter, smacked him like cold water against his face. It was enough to wake him from the near trance-like state one entered when in the presence of the gods in their sacred temples.

He squinted against the harsh white sunlight, which refused to sparkle off the dastardly waters of the Nile. Not even Ra wanted to touch the defiled waters of the Nile. Where light would have sparkled off the forming currents stirred by the Nile's restlessness, now there was almost none. Dead fish, bobbing on the river's surface, had already glutted the shores of the Nile, buffeted about by the water's ceaseless motion. Even the normally lush papyrus, rushes, and reeds along the banks drooped grey and depressed for want of nourishing, fertile waters. Without the water, life would die, and the king, without water to quench his thirst, would too pass to the west, his golden falcon leaving the mortal world forever.

_I will fight against this Hebrew god—or against Moses—to restore Ma'at to the land, _Rameses promised himself, his hands balling into fists,_ I will not let his people go as long as he seeks to harm Egypt and my subjects. I will not allow him to unleash the Serpent of Chaos into Egypt. Ma'at _will _thrive! _

Then he noticed another unsettling sight at the river: no ibises waded in the shallows, purifying the water wherever they stepped. Sacred to the god of knowledge, Thoth, ibises were believed to sanctify any body of water they touched, especially in the sacred pools of the temples. Another nearby temple kept ibises in a sacred lake, keeping the temple a holy place by virtue of the birds' presence.

"Hotep, Huy," Rameses commanded their attention, "Bring out the sacred ibises from their animal pen in the temple dedicated to Thoth. Take them to the Nile so they will purify the river with the god's presence. Now!"

The two priests bowed to the king and made haste for the temple.

_It will be Thoth, the god of healing and wisdom, who will restore our life-giving river, Moses, and he will not be stopped either. When the waters return, it will be from _our_ gods' intervention, not yours that has no name. Do not defy the gods, nor defy a god who reigns as Horus' incarnation on Earth! _


	8. Chapter 8

**Chapter Eight**

_He didn't believe before, why would he believe now? _

Moses had lived eighteen years at the palace and despite being immersed in their culture and religion all his life, he had somehow never quite believed. His adopted family, of course, believed in their gods, clinging on to them like a little child to its mother's leg. Moses had tried to believe, but somehow it always felt wrong, and now he knew why. God had planted a seed of disbelief in his heart against the Egyptians gods without him knowing it.

Right now, Moses sat with his back against the mud-brick wall, with Gershom in his lap. Miriam had insisted that he, Gershom, and Tzipporah stay in their house, rather than in the old, abandoned one. At first, Tzipporah and Moses had insisted they were fine, but Miriam's pleads eventually won them over. Aaron was less than accommodating, but he had seemed to have long resigned to the knowledge that when Miriam made up her mind, it was nigh impossible to dissuade her.

_What will it take to convince Rameses? _Moses wondered as he awoke the same morning as Rameses' trip to the temple, _when will we be free of Egypt's chains? _

He avoided looking at Aaron as he got up and took a stale bread roll from the table, sitting down to eat. Miriam sat down next to him.

"Good sleep, Moses?"

Moses mumbled something through his food.

"I'll take it as a yes," Miriam said, "It's not exactly a palace…"

"I like it," Moses said quickly, "but Jethro's tent—that's Tzipporah's father—his camp was as good, no, better, than a palace. The palace was…boring."

Tzipporah, standing next to him by the table, snorted in disbelief. Moses raised an eyebrow at her, the hint of a grin pulling at one side of his mouth.

"What do you mean, you don't believe me?" he goaded.

"Chariot racing, senet, game hunting, and boating on the Nile?" she reminded, her sentence rising in a question, "That was all boring to you?"

Moses wrapped an arm around her waist, planting a soft kiss on her cheek. "Everything's better with you, Tzipporah."

Tzipporah squeezed his hand resting on the table, "I'm going to get some water from the well."

Miriam winced, "Tzipporah?"

"Yes?"

"The well…everyone's used up the water now."

"Then we'll get more from the Nile," Moses blurted out without thinking, "there's going to be some water there."

His sister's wince evolved into a brief grimace. "Moses? I'm not sure if you realise…"

"Realise what?"

"The Nile is still blood."

"How do you know that?"

"Aaron and I went down there at dawn," Miriam explained, "because everyone had taken their share of the water from the wells, and we'd thought the river would be clean by sunrise…" her sentence trailed off, but all in the room could guess the unspoken words left silent.

Moses groaned, leaning his head in his hands, elbows propped on the table. He wished he didn't feel so guilty; after all, how was he to know that God would turn the water into blood?

"How long is it going to last, Moses?" Aaron demanded, "We can't live long without water. What have you done?"

"Aaron!" Miriam warned, "I trust Moses knows what he's doing."

Moses raised his head, lowering his hands down on the table. "Miriam…"

"I trust you, Moses!" Miriam interrupted eagerly, her little smile reappearing, "I know you can find a way—surely the water will return, and soon we _will _be free."

_There's optimism, _Moses mused, _and then there's Miriam_.

"I do not know," he admitted, "but I know it will return."

"When?" Aaron demanded, "Did God tell you _when?_"

"I already told you—"

"You claim to have met and know God, and now you act like you don't!" Aaron interrupted, his hands curling into fists, "You have performed a miracle that you cannot lift nor know when it will! We will die of thirst before long, Moses!"

Moses looked away, not wanting to think about it. But a sneaking thought found its way into his heart—would putting the staff in the Nile reverse what had been done? After all, everyone needed water—even the Egyptians. With hundreds of thousands of citizens living along the Nile Valley with its thick, lush clumps of plant life, there would be many people wanting to quench their thirst inflicted by the desert sun.

_I can only try. _

"Can you not just ask him?" Aaron asked.

Moses stood up, reaching for his staff. Aaron was right—people would not survive long without water, especially in this heat. Would God change it back if he asked?

"I'll go now," Moses declared, "I will ask God to bring back the drinkable waters."

* * *

The heat soaked into his robes and scarf as he strolled down to the banks of the Nile choked with people digging in the mud for water untainted by blood. Mud encrusted dozens of pairs of arms, covering flesh from fingertips to elbows. Sweat glistened on furrowed foreheads and dampened wigs. He saw children sitting by their parents, swirling their fingers in the mud, too little to dig for water as their stronger parents were doing. It didn't matter which way he looked, Moses could see crowds of people desperately searching for clean water along the banks. A group of people were even rowing a fleet of reed boats across the river to the other side, their yokes trailing through the water.

_I wanted to show Rameses that God meant for the Hebrews to be freed, _Moses thought, _but I did not wish people to suffer, scrabbling for clean water in the mud. _

Taking a deep breath, Moses stepped over the squishy mud that seeped between his toes and under his toenails. He sank ankle-deep in mud as he walked to the edge of the Nile. People lifted their heads, pushing back wigs that slipped over eyes to stare agape at the Hebrew. Men drew their wives closer to them, and women wound protective arms around children. It was as though they knew what he had done to their only source of water supply.

_The plague has tainted the water so important to Egypt, _Moses realised, _the same river they pray to for a good inundation each year. _

He could imagine how many of the glaring Egyptians scrabbling on the riverbanks were praying in desperation to Hapi to restore the waters. Moses wouldn't be surprised if the same happened at the palace; perhaps even now the priests were offering sacrifices and prayers up to the river god.

_It won't work, _Moses thought, _their god is weak against my ancestors' God. _

Still the human side of him, the compassion that embraced his soul, wanted to see that the river became clean again, with not a trace of blood remaining. Now as he stood near the edge of the blood-stained water, but not so near as to stain his robes, Moses raised his eyes to the heavens. In his heart, he reached out to God.

_God, if you will hear my prayer, _he prayed, _I know you have shown Pharaoh your miracle of the water into blood, but please return it to the clean water it once was, or Egyptians and slaves alike will die of thirst. _

As he had the previous evening, Moses stood his staff in the water, waiting for God's whisper in his heart. He yearned to hear his assurance that the river would return to normal.

_Even your people succumb to thirst sooner or later, as the Egyptians do, _Moses beseeched, _please tell me when the water will return. _

Then—a voice like a loving father's whisper in his ear, assuring him after a torrid nightmare.

_Tomorrow, _whispered God, _in the morning, the blood will disappear, and the river will be drinkable again. _

Moses let out a breath he hadn't realised he'd been holding.

_Thank you. _

_But tomorrow morning, _God continued, _you will return to pharaoh and demand him to let the Hebrews go. His heart will be as unmoving as stone, but he will free your people soon. Keep faith in Me and you will see your people free. _

Moses' heart sank as he listened to God's words.

_But _why_ is Rameses so stubborn? What will it take to convince him to set the Hebrews free? _

This time, no answer came.


	9. Chapter 9

**Chapter Nine**

As God had promised, the Nile returned to normal overnight, the last tendrils of blood trickling away before the noontime sun. Clean water was carried in leather bags tied to yokes balanced on shoulders, and tipped into the dry, empty wells dotting the villages across Egypt.

_They will thank their gods, _Moses reflected as he strolled to the palace, _they will refuse to believe it was God who restored their river to water. _

Now God had directed him to return to the palace and persuade pharaoh to let the people go, or He would smite the land with frogs. Though Moses knew God was serious about the next plague, a small part of Moses imagined Rameses' reaction to the warning. Why should he be afraid of frogs?

_They are their symbol of rebirth and fertility, _Moses recalled, remembering what his adoptive parents had taught him about their deities.

Then again, he reflected, much as frogs were appreciated in Egypt, the people likely wouldn't appreciate them appearing on every floor, in the beds, in the ovens, the porches, gardens, pools, and wherever else a frog could sit, there one would be.

_How can he be persuaded with frogs? _Moses wondered as he ascended the Hebrew village's steps in the direction of the palace. _Rameses won't believe me. Why would frogs frighten the Egyptians who hold them as symbols of fertility and rebirth? _

But Moses did not dare question God or try to persuade him—it would be too dangerous. He had an inkling that God did not like to be questioned, and what he had planned out for the downfall of Egypt was to be unchallenged to its end.

Two palace guards squinted their eyes at Moses as the shepherd calmly approached the palace gates.

"Here, aren't you that Hebrew?" one demanded. "The king does not wish to see you. Go away!"

"I wish to speak to him," Moses said, "I am still his brother."

"No you're not," snapped the second guard sporting a jagged scar on his forehead, "How can a Hebrew be a brother of an Egyptian?"

"When he's adopted," Moses muttered under his breath, "Let me in the palace to speak with Rameses. Please. I have another message."

"From whom?" the scarred guard demanded. "Not your God again is it?"

"He will soon be _our_ God."

The two guards laughed.

"Well, we're going to humour you and let you talk to the king," the first guard decided, "but you will not go unaccompanied."

"Very well," Moses conceded.

The guards gripped Moses' shoulders and marched alongside him to the grand double doors that would open their way into the audience chamber of the palace.

"So what plague is it to be this time?" the scarred man asked, "You won't turn the Nile into blood again will you?"

"No, not this time," Moses assured, as calm as ever.

"Then what is it?"

"You'll find out soon enough—unless Pharaoh concedes with my message."

The guard quirked one eyebrow, but didn't say anything else.

The doors loomed before Moses as the guards moved to open them into the giant entranceway dwarfing even the tallest man in the land. A doorkeeper jumped as the doors opened, snapping him out of his doze. He immediately stood to attention, eyeing Moses with a suspicious glare.

"What is he here for?" the doorkeeper demanded. "And why does he not bow to me as required?"

Moses fixed him with an unwavering look. "I will not bow to anyone but God."

A guard growled, bringing up his hand as though to slap the Hebrew for his impudence. But his partner grabbed his wrist, shaking his head with an imperceptible urgency.

"Carry on!" the scarred guard snapped, pushing Moses forward into the audience chamber. Today, it struck Moses as unusually busy—traders, ambassadors, advisors, overseers, and chancellors all clamoured at once for Pharaoh's attention. Pharaoh himself reclined on his throne, his little son sitting on his lap. His face gave the picture of an aloof king, one who thought himself a literal god on earth.

_He isn't, _Moses thought, _he's just a man. _

Brother or not, Moses would never dare say that out aloud.

_Did I believe that a king was a god before? _Moses wondered, thinking back to his own childhood and youth. _Did I believe the man I called father to be a god incarnate? _

Judging by the number of high-ranking officials jousting for the king's attention, Moses knew he had a long time to wait. Some little part of him recalled the way meetings were conducted in rank order, from highest to lowest. Shepherds—especially shepherds who happened to be foreigners—were certainly somewhere among the lowest of ranks. Slaves definitely were on the lowest rung of the proverbial ranking ladder.

Moses looked around the audience chamber for anything to distract him for a while until the officials were finally done with the king. There weren't many distractions to speak of except for a monkey perched on someone's shoulder. The little critter's hands were buried in the man's thick wig, occasionally pulling out a morsel and sticking it in its mouth. The man remained oblivious to this literal nit-picking, arguing with a friend who also had a monkey perched on his own shoulder. Two little children knelt on the floor, playing with a tiny puppy. Moses' heart clenched, remembering the two dogs he had left behind at the palace so many years ago.

_They'd be dead by now, _he reflected, surprised by a pang of sorrow piercing his heart, _they would have died never seeing me again. _

He could only hope that his adoptive family had taken good care of the dogs and shown them lots of love. But they surely would have missed him the rest of their lives, regardless of how much love anyone else in the palace had showered on them.

"Moses!"

Moses blinked, turning his head at the sound of his name. Rameses had spotted him and right now was beckoning him to the throne with a hand and glance. The officials took several steps backwards, a couple bumping into each other, as Moses walked to the steps that led to the throne. He saw Rameses regarding him with an unreadable expression on his face, but he could tell the king's eyes were narrowed with outward suspicion.

"What is it this time, Moses?" Rameses asked. "Are you here about your god or…"

It was a split second, easily missed by the simple act of a blink, but Moses saw that mask of a pharaoh slip into hope.

_Hope that I will return to the palace and that it would be like the old days again, _Moses realised, _a hopeless dream that he won't see come true. _

But that uplifting of hope, as though he thought his brother would return to the palace, disappeared in less than the blink of an eye. The hand with the blue ring twitched almost unconsciously, but then moved no more. Moses imagined in his mind how that impassive mask would devolve into disbelief and anger once he told him what God would do next.

_If these frogs are giant, poisonous ones, _Moses theorised, _it may make Pharaoh listen. _

He tried to imagine huge green frogs, their hilariously bulbous eyes holding a dark secret within—poisonous venom. Perhaps the venom would hide in the moisture that always dampened their backs. One poke and the victim would keel over, dead.

"I have returned," Moses proclaimed, "to ask you to let the Hebrews go."

Rameses leaned his head against the throne, throwing up a hand in exasperation.

"I have told you before, Moses, that I will not let your people go!" he snapped, "do not waste my time any further this morning!"

Moses tapped his staff on the ground. "Because you will not let the Hebrews go, God will send frogs on the land."

Rameses' painted eyebrows dove in the beginnings of anger before crinkling in confusion. Then his face became a picture of complete disbelief.

"Frogs?" he echoed.

_Shall I embellish it? _

Moses was sorely tempted, but he had to relay it exactly as it was. In actual truth, he hoped the frogs weren't venomous—just annoying and intrusive, that was all.

_I only desire for the Hebrews to be freed from slavery, not for anyone—not least of all, Rameses—to die. _

"Yes, Pharaoh," Moses confirmed, "God will send frogs into your palaces, your houses, kitchens, pools, and they shall literally be everywhere."

To no one's surprise, Rameses laughed, as though this was a great joke.

"Moses," Rameses chuckled, "You threaten me with _frogs?_"

His son, who had hopped off the king's lap and now stood by the throne, laughed along. Moses wished the pharaoh would take it seriously, but at the same time, he could understand Rameses' incredulity. If he were in Rameses' sandals, he'd likely react the same way to someone threatening the palace with harmless creatures such as _frogs_!

"I am not joking," Moses said, wincing inside at how pathetic his words had sounded, "God has informed me—"

His words were cut off by an impatient official who shoved him back, stepping in front of the shepherd.

"Why do you pay attention to this slave?" the official demanded pharaoh.

Pharaoh's hands clenched the armrests, his muscles taut with anger. His eyes flashed at the official who had shoved Moses aside. He leaned forward on his throne, glaring at the man.

"You forget protocol, Djehuty," Rameses chided, voice hard with disgust, "you will not interrupt someone of lower rank who is speaking. I will entreat you not to treat my brother as you have done, and to call him a slave as you have done is intolerable!"

Djehuty made sounds of protest, but Rameses slammed his hand on the armrest, his eyes burning holes in the man's forehead.

"Apologise to Moses and allow him to speak to me. Now."

The disgruntled man turned aside and pulled Moses forward with a mumbled apology.

"I didn't hear your apology," Rameses hinted in a dangerous tone.

"I apologise for my misbehaviour," Djehuty said, his words ringing off the columns, "and for displeasing His Majesty."

Then he added under his voice, "Happy now, Your Majesty?"

"I heard that," Rameses said, before turning his attentions to Moses, appeased once more. "When shall I expect to see these frogs of yours?"

"Tomorrow morning," Moses revealed.

"I will keep on my guard," Rameses said ironically, "My guards will look out for this dangerous frog invasion."

_He won't tell his guards to look out, _Moses assumed, _he will believe the frogs invasion to be a minor thing. _

"I will return tomorrow evening," Moses declared, "and—"

"I will never let your people go," Rameses interrupted, waving a dismissive hand at Moses, "frogs will not convince me. Now leave. You waste my time with your threats and your god."

"Rameses," Moses addressed him by name, "I only come here to—"

"Leave. I said _leave, _Moses!"

Moses refused to allow Rameses to see how his words and hard tone had hit him, minutes after he had chided the rude official for shoving the shepherd aside. Instead, Moses inclined his head in the smallest of bows. He would not even bow to pharaoh, nor to any other pharaoh.

_He will bow to God one day, _Moses told himself, _and he will see the truth of my words. _

But when? Rameses was still just as stubborn and cold as he had been the day before. Moses prayed he would not have to fight his own brother. But some part of him, deep, deep down, a rational, brutally honest piece of his heart said _yes, he will be your enemy. The bloody water and frogs are only the beginning. _


	10. Chapter 10

**Chapter Ten**

Nothing wakes anyone faster than a horrified scream like one being tortured. The scream ripped Tuya from her slumber, heart pounding as she struggled to sit up and identify the shriek's origin. Pushing aside the blankets, the queen quickly put on a simple linen dress as she listened to the tumult out in the hallway. In her haste she almost ripped the hem of her dress as she put it on, her fingers fumbling over the straps.

"_Frogs!" _she heard someone scream, "Frogs! Everywhere!"

"They're in my kohl!"

"I'm never wearing this wig again!"

"I shared my bed with _frogs_, and not my husband!"

The other concubines of the palace were in an uproar, their upset voices echoing down the two rooms to Tuya's own bedchamber.

_A frog infestation? _Tuya guessed as she rushed out the door.

Outside in the hallway, a commotion had bloomed in the shapes of servants and a couple concubines still dressed in their night shifts, their hair unbrushed. One servant dragged a very reluctant frog out of her bird's nest of hair. Tuya looked down to find more frogs at her feet, crawling over her toes, their slimy bodies pulling over her feet. Though she respected Heket, the frog-headed goddess of fertility and protector of unborn children, the feeling of the amphibians' skin on hers was still creepy. Her breath caught in her throat as she saw the hallway literally leaping and crawling with a green sea of frogs. Even now, a few leaped down from the small, oblong windows set high in the walls to prevent dust entering into the hall.

"A frog infestation," Tuya reported to the servants.

"An _infestation?_" croaked a quaking little waif of an older servant, "more like an _invasion!_"

Right then, a male servant ran screaming from the king's private quarters.

"Frogs in the bathroom!" he shouted, "in the shower! In the laundry!"

"Calm down," Tuya commanded sternly, "We will fix this infestation at once. Where is the king?"

"He _was_ going to be showered and purified," chattered the man, "but it appears the presence of many frogs has hindered this."

"He can survive one morning," Tuya told him, "tomorrow these frogs will be gone and the private quarters will be usable again." She fixed her eyes on the other servants. "Now, please try to stay calm and go back to your duties about the palace. The king will be ready for his day soon and the palace does not stop its chores because of frogs."

One of them coughed, "About that, Your Majesty…"

"You will do your best," Tuya interrupted, "you are all dismissed now."

"But they're in the ovens, everywhere!" the same man—a cook—complained. "I can't make bread with them invading the kitchen!"

"If it is that difficult, then go to the supplies in the royal granaries."

The royal granaries were a long walk away, and Tuya expected the cook to stop complaining and head back to the kitchen. Yet, to her exasperation, he nodded, mumbled about the granaries, and hared away.

_He's going to be in trouble when the king finds out, _Tuya knew, _Rameses will not take kindly to the cook taking from the granaries without outright permission. _

Amongst the noise of departing servants, the sprinting cook, and yammering frogs, popped out the voices of Rameses and Nefertari. Nefertari was making sympathetic noises as Rameses complained at her. Tuya craned her neck to see where they were coming from, until they appeared from around the corner of the hall. Rameses' headdress had a few creases in it, suggesting having donned it with careless haste, and Nefertari's golden vulture crown—the emblem of the vulture goddess Nekhbet—was slightly askew, one wing dipping further over one ear than the other. Tuya could hear snippets of Rameses' words, including "Moses". At once, they had her attention. Without a second's hesitation, the King's Mother stopped before Nefertari and Rameses.

"I couldn't help but overhear," Tuya apologised, "it seems you were talking about Moses, Rameses?"

Rameses hissed between his teeth. "_Yes_."

Tuya raised her eyebrows meaningfully at a lagging servant who had slowed down to, she guessed, eavesdrop on the conversation. The servant took Tuya's meaning and hasted out the door. Seeing there was now no one but herself, Nefertari, and Rameses, Tuya felt safe to talk.

"Did Moses say something about this?" Tuya gestured to the frogs.

"Yes—he warned me of frogs, and I didn't believe him." Rameses confirmed, "Turns out, he was right."

"It could be just a coincidence," Tuya suggested, even as she pulled a frog off her shoulder, trying not to shiver at its touch.

"He specifically said frogs," Nefertari insisted, "and that they would come tomorrow morning—today's morning, I mean. You know what I mean. Rameses tells me that the shepherd had warned him his Hebrew god would send frogs."

Tuya swallowed, trying to buy time to collect her befuddled thoughts. Why would God send frogs on the land to warn the people?

_I would send a stronger sign, _Tuya thought almost idly, _a sign that he is more powerful than our gods. _

"A prayer to Heket should suffice," Rameses announced now to Tuya, Nefertari, or no one in particular, "I shall speak to the priests about this. Excuse me."

With that, Rameses left Nefertari's side, sending frogs flying with each kick as he passed Tuya. One of the frogs smacked into a figurine of Isis, sending it flying into the mass of amphibians. A frog let out a strangled croak as one of Rameses' feet landed on its head, killing it.

"The priests will pray to Heket," Rameses announced at the door, his back to the women, "These frogs will be gone before sundown. After all, Hapi heard our prayers to heal the river."

With that, he shut the door with a resounding _slam_, leaving the two women speechless, their confusion reflected on each other's faces.

* * *

_Frogs. It had to be frogs! _

Rameses let loose a growl of frustration as he stomped on the frogs on his way to the main audience chamber with its imposing throne. He yelled at guards cowering in the corners away from the frogs, and threatened to fire servants who were slacking off their duties as the frogs teemed over the walls and into the palace. Every inch of floor space crawled with frogs, and he could not hear his own thoughts for the creatures' incessant and migraine-inducing ribbiting and croaking. Normally he would have demanded where his cook and breakfast were, but this morning he couldn't have cared less. Waking up to frogs squirming in his bed, pressing him and Nefertari apart, had taken care of any appetite he might have had.

_This is Moses' fault! _

He blamed Moses for this, just as he blamed the shepherd for the river turning into blood. But Hapi had healed the river, and Thoth's sacred ibises had purified its waters. There had been priests lining both banks all day and well into the night, chanting prayers non-stop so that the river would be healthy again.

_Oh for the love of Ra! _

He scowled, narrowing his eyes as he approached his throne now crawling with frogs. One of them fixed him with challenging eyes, as though daring him to _try_ to force them off his throne.

_No one but I, the morning and the evening star, sits on this throne! _

He pushed his way through the shin-high mob of frogs toward his golden throne, arms outstretched and fingers reaching to grab them and throw the dastardly critters far from his sacred seat. As he grabbed handfuls of surprised, protesting frogs, he shouted at the guards hovering around the doors.

"Kamose!" he addressed the burly guard, "Go and get my priests now!"

The guard half-bowed, pushing the door open as he did so. Kamose cried out and flung a hand up to his face as more frogs immediately leaped in through the doorway without a care. The other guard instinctively kicked at the frogs, but misaimed and instead hit Kamose's shin. Kamose cursed loudly in agony just as a child ran past with his panicking, wild-eyed mother.

"Watch it!" Kamose snapped at the guard, before lurching off out of sight.

To Rameses, it seemed to take forever before he heard the familiar heavy panting of Huy, who, at best, moved no faster than a fatigued frog when in a hurry. Hotep arrived several steps before the guard himself, thanks to his lithe and sprightly frame. They bowed at the door—though Huy's wasn't so much a _bow, _as it was gripping his big belly as he fought to regain his breath again.

"Your…Majesty…" Hotep puffed, his cheeks scarlet from the exertion, "We…await…commands."

"Excellent," Rameses said in a clipped tone, "Go at once and pray to Heket to remove these frogs."

"Shall we say a spell against Moses too?" Hotep asked, eyes gleaming with hope, "we will speak curses—"

"No." Rameses interrupted. Moses may have betrayed him, but he wasn't going to let the priests hurt his brother.

_Not yet, anyway. _

Hotep and Huy gaped at pharaoh, bodies slack with disbelief.

"E-excuse me?" Huy stammered.

"If you must recite spells, curse the frogs and not Moses."

"But—"

"Are you questioning pharaoh, Huy?"

Huy closed his mouth, but judging by his narrowed eyes and wrinkled nose, he was clearly displeased by Rameses' decision.

"You may be making a mistake," Hotep spoke up, "I mean, I advise that we recite spells against the Hebrew just to be safe. We have all the preparations already."

Rameses took a moment to understand what Hotep had just announced. Seconds passed as it sunk into his understanding what they wished to do to Moses.

_All the preparations. They would curse Moses._

"Preparations for what? Prayers to Heket?" Rameses asked, feigning ignorance of their true intentions.

"No," Hotep corrected, "I mean for execrating the enemy so he shall not—"

Rameses' fingers tightened on the edges of the throne's armrests, jaw set as he listened to Hotep babble.

"I mean, so no harm shall come to _us_. It is the shepherd who will feel our gods' wrath. We will call upon Montu, Osiris, and Horus—"

"_Silence._" Rameses ordered, "I forbid you to curse Moses through your spells, prayers, and rituals."

"But we have the figurines ready!" Hotep protested.

"He is introducing _chaos_ into Egypt!" Huy added, his eyes cold as he glared at pharaoh, "We must pray to Horus to fight the bringer of chaos and destroyer of Ma'at!"

Rameses fought to keep his composure, even as his hands shook with restrained rage.

"Pray to Horus and to Montu to protect Egypt if you must!" he declared, "but I will not give you permission to maim Moses through execration and curses. I am the Morning and Evening Star, Hotep and Huy, not you."

Both priests folded their hands, unhappy with the king's orders. But they couldn't fail to acknowledge that Rameses, as king, ultimately had the final word. They could fight against the king's orders until the world was consumed in millions of years, but nothing would change the final command of a god on earth.

_He is still my brother, _Rameses told himself, _no harm shall come to him as long as I can help it. He can send frogs and turn rivers into blood, but I will not allow deliberate harm on the man I called brother. _

In that split-second of reflection, a disturbing realisation came to him: the priests could easily disobey Pharaoh's orders as soon as they were out of sight. Once behind closed doors, they could do whatever they wished. Open doors only led to discovery of disobedience. Rameses returned his aloof gaze on the priests.

"Hotep, Huy," he addressed them, "Go back to the temple of Ra and pray to Heket, Montu, and Horus. Address prayers only to rid Egypt of these frogs—" here he pulled one off his lap and flung it off to the side, "but no harm is to come to the shepherd through use of rituals. Understand?"

The priests uttered obedient words, complete sincerity in their tones and elaborate gestures—a little _too_ extravagant, Rameses noticed.

_They'll do it anyway, _Rameses thought, _they will disobey me, the Living Image of Horus, in their own temple of Ra. _

There was just one more thing he had to do. Casting his gaze upon the guards—Kamose had returned—he ordered one to step forward.

"Bring me Moses. Now."

* * *

**A/N: You may have noticed that I've raised the rating from K to K+ due to themes of suggested sorcery and execration (which is what they did in Ancient Egypt), which may be unsuitable or disturbing for younger children. (_The difference between K and K+ is that the former is perfectly suitable for younger readers, whereas K+ is where you start getting the themes that may not be so suitable for younger readers. T is where we get a little more graphic, especially with details.)_ The Ancient Egyptians used figurines of enemies to bash, burn, and destroy to harm the enemy. Yeah, pretty much like voodoo. The rating will probably go up again in later chapters as the plagues worsen, as there WILL be details of horrific injuries and disease inflicted by later plagues, especially BURNING hail. **

**Montu was the falcon-headed god of war, and Heket was the frog-headed goddess of fertility and protector of unborn children.  
**


	11. Chapter 11

**Chapter Eleven**

Moses saw it all happening from where he stayed in the Hebrew village. He wanted to look away as the land boiled with frogs, clogging both water and land with croaking creatures. In the morning, a few Egyptians had ventured out only to balk, horrified, at the sight of all the frogs. By midday, there were thousands of frogs and only about a half-dozen Egyptians out in view. It was surreal not to see the Nile teeming with boats of traders, fishers, hunters, fowlers, and the royal barge was absent too. Dead fish still bobbed on the Nile's surface, but more washed up on the banks with each crash of the water onto the shore as it tripped downstream. The stink rolled over the banks, stumbling like a drunken man over the rooftops and sand, permeating the atmosphere with sickness. The frogs had swarmed, slipping and sliding, over the fish, not seeming to be bothered by their stench. The Nile's birdlife had evacuated the banks, searching for healthier waters, even though the liquid was no longer blood. Birds had to eat, and the fish here in Egypt were dead.

Moses knew that the frogs would not cross the hairline border between the slum where the Hebrews "lived"—not that it was much to live for—and Egypt itself. God would ensure that the throbbing layers of frogs would never put so much as a webbed toe across the village's border. Still, he could not help but think what would happen if the frogs somehow rolled into the village in their thousands. The slum would fill with frogs swarming into the homes and infiltrating the water wells that had been fresh for only a day and a half. Food stocks would be invaded, the stale bread and rotting vegetables slick with frog slime.

He also knew that the palace would be teeming with frogs on every surface they could possibly sit on. The image of frogs sitting like green lumps of fat on the grand foursome of statues in the entrance hall didn't quite leave his imagination. His old room with its collection of weaponry and the bed with its luxurious canopy would be overwhelmed with the green amphibians. Quite possibly, frogs were bedding down in what used to be his bed at the palace. The innocent lilies and lotuses in the water garden would be trampled to limp, soggy deaths as the frogs bloated out of the water and up the steps into the palace.

_It's all for the greater good, _Moses told himself, _the Hebrews will be free soon. _

Still, he couldn't help a twinge of sadness at imagining those poor flowers and lilies being drowned to a soggy mess on the bottom of the garden. Back when he lived at the palace, some evenings Moses would watch the setting sun's golden light play on the petals of floating flowers. But nothing lasted forever, he knew, and he tried to push such nostalgia out of his mind.

_Conceal the memories, _Moses chided his heart, _for the past is in the past—God has given you a mission far more important than flowers or nostalgia. _

Late in the afternoon a guard from the palace came a-knocking at the door; his uniform was unmistakeable as Egyptian. Gershom yelled at the man to "go away!" but Moses went to the door with complete sureness of step and expression.

"What is it you need?" Moses asked in an even voice.

The guard stiffened, peering down at Moses through squinted, black eyes.

"I presume you are the Hebrew shepherd called Moses?"

"I am," Moses confirmed.

The guard spun around, his acne-ridden back to Moses. "Come with me. Pharaoh demands to speak with you."

Moses nodded at his son and wife, "You stay here. I will go alone with the guard."

* * *

The guard's left hand never unclutched his dagger as he led Moses up the steps, kicking aside croaking frogs. Moses could hear his loud cursing above the din of frogs as they half walked and half waded through the critters. The guard stabbed a few frogs—with a string of expletives every time—as they made their way to the grand residence of pharaoh.

_Lice are next, _Moses reminded himself, _a threat that will topple Rameses' dynasty when it comes to pass. _

Moses may have become more serious and mature over time, but he definitely didn't forget the joy of sarcasm. Guilt nicked his heart as his thoughts kept playing along in a slightly sarcastic form. He didn't have to be Rameses' lifelong adoptive brother to guess how he would take the plague of lice.

_A terrible scourge on Egypt from which the economy will never recover, _Moses quipped in his thoughts, _no man or woman will have seen lice as fearsome as those yet to come. _

Now Moses and the guard were thigh-deep in frogs as they dragged their feet through the mass of amphibians.

_If it were me, I'd let the people go, _Moses thought, _one day of wading up to my thighs in frogs would convince _me_. _

Frogs dropped and tumbled from windows, columns, and statues, but only on the guard and other Egyptians, never on Moses. It was as though the frogs were immediately repelled from Moses on virtue of being one of God's chosen. God made sure Moses was immune to the frogs, but not so much that he didn't have to wade up to his thighs through the croaking mass.

Despite the mass of frogs threatening to drown both men, they finally made it into the throne room where Rameses slouched on his throne, glaring at the frogs and forcibly slamming any that crawled onto him against the nearest column or wall.

"Moses!" he sniped, "Is this _your _doing?"

Moses straightened his spine, trying to look as tall as he could as he readied himself to speak on God's behalf once more.

"Yes, it is," Moses confirmed, "And—"

"You think it will make me let your precious Hebrews go?" Rameses interrupted, baring his teeth, "You think wrong. The priests have prayed to the gods and they will remove the frogs."

"They won't," Moses insisted, hand tightening on his staff, "It will be God, _if_ you let my people go."

"What else can he threaten me with?" Rameses asked, a touch of cynicism in his words, "What else can _your_ nameless god come up with that will convince me?"

_Lice, _Moses thought, cringing inside. If Rameses wasn't convinced by a literal sea of frogs, then lice wouldn't either. Everyone got lice at some point or another, especially young children. If one child got lice today, then a dozen would have them by tomorrow.

_It is God's will that I warn Rameses. _

"He can come up with much," Moses began his spiel, "but ask him to take away these frogs if you wish them gone."

Rameses glared at a fat frog that had jumped right onto his lap and looked at him with what he could swear were bedroom eyes.

_You're going to be gone tomorrow, frog!_

He gripped the frog in one large hand and slammed it down on the footstool of his throne, stomping on the poor creature with a foot. It let out one startled croak and its eyes became glassy with death. Moses winced and looked back up at Rameses' face.

"Tomorrow then, Moses," Rameses snapped, "These frogs had better be gone."

"Fine," Moses said lightly, "They will be gone tomorrow."

_Not in the way you expect, _Moses added silently.

"And what should I be afraid of next?" Rameses asked sarcastically.

_Here goes. _

"Lice," Moses proclaimed with a completely straight face.

Rameses gaped, his expression stunned. Then he laughed uproariously.

"Moses!" he chuckled. "I didn't know you still had it in you!"

Moses didn't see what was so funny. "Have what in me?"

His adoptive brother shook his head, still laughing. "You come here so seriously, ready to deliver another terrible plague. And then…" a beat of not-very-tense silence, as Rameses' shoulders still shook with mirth, "you come up with the most ominous of threats…_lice._ Maybe you really are coming back. I knew you were still the same Moses I knew somehow."

Moses fought a valiant battle not to roll his eyes. Rameses was babbling as usual, and he let his mind wander, not listening at all. He didn't laugh, and nor did he see Rameses' face fall when his own amusement wasn't echoed. When he returned his gaze back to Rameses, all he saw was the cold, hard look of a pharaoh. An awkward silence fell as the two men stared at each other without speaking.

"Fine," Rameses said without emotion, "I will warn the palace of the next plague. I will not let your people go, and the Hebrews will stay here in Egypt. Go, Moses, return to your people and do not disturb me again tonight."

_He still blinds himself to the suffering of _my_ people! _

"That is your will, Rameses, and God has heard. The dust of the palace will turn into lice by sunrise. The frogs will bother you no more, and perhaps you will rethink—"

"Just go!"

_I'm leaving, I'm leaving. I just wish you would _listen!

Moses inclined his head, turning away from pharaoh, wading once again through the thick sludge of frogs. The guards squinted at him, but did not move from their posts as Moses exited the audience chamber. Moses never saw the extra frown line appear between Rameses' eyebrows as the latter watched his brother leave. The line was the one of sorrow that had appeared when Moses had exiled Egypt so long ago, and when he returned only to free his people.


End file.
